


Star Dust (A Paladin Adventure)

by Hephastia



Series: Emma Harrington [3]
Category: DC - Fandom, Marvel
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-15 08:35:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 63
Words: 189,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19610230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hephastia/pseuds/Hephastia
Summary: Thor is still missing. Odin is catatonic. It is up to Emma and the Avengers to discover what game is being played in the Nine Realms.The characters of the Avengers are the creation of Marvel and characters including Batman belong to DC; Emma, Sigurd, and Torburn are my creations. This work originally appeared on Wattpad in 2016, and has minor revisions. The chronology roughly follows the MCU through Civil War but not after.





	1. Calm

It was good that we had holidays to distract us; Odin was still out, Thor and Sif were still missing, and Loki was getting nervous. I actually caught him chewing his nails. We had a lot of parties to attend; there was the campus-wide Christmas party, when there was an open house for everybody's families and one down at the visitor center. For the team, we had Christmas again at my house; it was becoming a tradition. New Years Eve was in the rec room, also as usual. Peter didn't come out this year; he had a party to go to with MJ. I just hoped that he'd stay put at the party instead of running after baddies.

This year I wore a Zac Posen dress, a few years old but who cares? It looked great on me, which was the whole point. Blue and slinky, it had an interesting collar and flirty flares along the hem. We had hors d'oeuvres and drinks, and played with the new jukebox Tony had made. A huge digital library allowed customized playlists, and there was a wrinkle that you could dedicate a song to someone and this would be announced before the song played. So we got a game going where you had to choose a song to describe you and then you had to choose at least two songs for teammates. Everybody made their selections and we stood around waiting for the jukebox to shuffle.

First up, Tony dedicated Panic at the Disco's "Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time" to all of us. Then Wanda dedicated The Gap Band's "You Dropped a Bomb on Me" to Tony, which got a roar. Natasha had chosen Joan Jett's "Bad Reputation" for Bucky, and Tony had chosen Will Smith's "Party Starter" for himself. He started to strut and we ended up having a sort of mosh pit of Avengers. Next up, Natasha had chosen "Black Widow's Eyes' by the Who for herself, followed by Tony's choice of Jimmy Buffett's "Captain America" for Steve. It was meant with affection. Jim dedicated "Killer Queen" to Natasha; she laughed and raised her glass to him. Vision had chosen "Cradle of Love" for himself; I'm never quite sure if he has a sense humor. Sam chose "This is How We Do It" by Montell Jordan for the group. My choice of AJR's "I'm Not Famous" came up, and everybody laughed. I dedicated the Mowgli's "I'm Good" to Bucky and popped in Queen's "We Will Rock You" for the team for good measure. Tony had dedicated Meghan Trainor's "Me Too" to me. I flipped my hair and led a dance line around the the room. Then my choice for Scott, "Pretty Fly (For a White Guy)" came on (it's surprisingly hard to find an insect-related pun without resorting to Adam Ant) and Steve, showing an unexpected familiarity with pop music, chose "Work This Body" by Cage the Elephant for himself. Wanda dedicated "Our Lips Are Sealed" by the Go-Gos for the ladies. The ultimate Avengers playlist rolled on, and this entertainment kept us going till midnight. I thought it was interesting to see everybody's choices for themselves. Sam had chosen "Lean on Me" by Bill Withers, for example, which was perfect.

At midnight we broke out the champagne and toasted to another year where we all came out of the old one ok. The party broke up shortly after, and like I usually did, I stayed behind and tidied things to make Housekeeping's job easier and less gross. I wasn't surprised when Steve stayed to help; the man is incapable of leaving somebody to do the work.

We sat back down on a sofa to finish the last bottle of champagne; when the last of it was divided between our glasses I got up to toss the bottle into recycling and wandered by the jukebox to punch in a few songs. We chatted about nothing as the Clash wondered if they should stay or should they go, and when I finished my glass, I kicked my feet up on the sofa arm and put my head on Steve's lap. He tensed for a moment, then relaxed as I complimented the second design he'd made for my field uniform. It wasn't all that different, but it had a kind of sexy dropped waist and had small mesh panels down the sides, across the upper chest, and across the small of the back, meant for missions in hot weather. Given the other fabrics and the armoring, it might reduce the internal temperature by a degree or two, but it was the thought that counted. His fingers sifted through my hair as we talked. The Barenaked Ladies wondered "Who Needs Sleep?" When "Dangerous Woman" came on, I decided I'd better more direct since he didn't seem to be picking up on the musical cues. 

"When you were having that crisis with your PTSD, I could have been more understanding, tried harder for a compromise. I regret that. I miss you." I just kind of blurted it out, careful not to over-think and edit myself into utter stupidity. He looked down in surprise and his hand on my hair stilled.

"No, I was wrong to ask you to do that. It was cowardly. The wrong thing to do, definitely. I was just afraid...that if I wasn't strong and handling everything, you would think less of me. And that that was so unfair." I thought he was going to start to cry. Alicia Key's "Fallin'" flowed out of the speakers.

I reached up and touched his cheek. "I'm sorry," I said. He kissed my palm and pressed it over his heart.

I could feel his heart racing. "Forgive me for not having enough faith," he begged. I squirmed and sat up, bringing his head down for a kiss as I wiggled onto his lap. It felt momentous, like we were on the edge of a precipice. At the end of the song the kiss ended, and he stood up, placing me on my feet, pulling me to the door. We raced down the stairs and across the yard to his apartment. When I skidded in my stilettos, he picked me up and carried me.

Later in the morning, it was a very tight fit in the shower and I suggested that mine was bigger, for next time. Like the gentleman he was, he gave me a toothbrush and let me have first crack at the bathroom for grooming. I browsed his bookshelves as I waited for him, noting some new additions. When I saw his sketchbook on a shelf, I pulled it off. Last time I'd looked at it, he'd been doing landscapes as well as my costume designs, and I wanted to see his new work. This was a new one, I could tell from the cover. There were sketches of the team on the first pages, including one of Tony lecturing, finger waving. I chortled and turned the page. There was one of me and Peter, his arm around my shoulders, listening as I said something to him. The next few pages were just me. In varying stages of undress. Then a few pages of me as Winged Victory (with a head) and Athena, with spear, crested helm, and shield (I grinned to see that his star was on the shield rather than Medusa's head), and as an Amazon, cloth covering my groin, carrying a sword, bare breasted. The next was half done, me in the quinjet holding the ribs that had cracked when Cobra had squeezed me. It was wrinkled, like he had been about to tear it out but changed his mind. The next two were nudes, me as a '40's-style pinup, very provocative, me in the style of Mucha, romantic and sensual. Then a few...action shots. I presume it was him in the drawings with me; not much of the man was visible, but the proportions were correct. My eyes opened wide.

"Er...." Steve was nervous as he saw what I was looking at.

"I thought you were still on landscapes," I said nonchalantly, closing the sketchbook and walking toward him.

"Umm.." he tried again.

"You're so talented and imaginative," I said, stopping in front of him, then gave up the teasing. "You make me look flawless."

"You're perfect to me," he said softly. I pressed myself against him for a kiss.

"We don't have to go for breakfast," he started to say as his hand located the zipper on my dress, but was interrupted by a banging on the door.

"Quit playing with yourself and get out here!" Bucky shouted, and I started to chuckle. "You're coming to breakfast with us."

"Does he do this often?" I asked him, and he looked pained.

"Only when he thinks I'm getting moody," he said glumly. I winked at him as I handed him the sketchbook and hustled to the door.

"I can guarantee he's not playing with himself," I said to Bucky's shocked face. Behind him, Natasha started to grin and turned away when she burst out laughing.

"Uh, of course you're invited too, Emma," he said awkwardly, and started to smile when Steve walked up behind me and put his hand on my hip. Bucky was still a little embarrassed by his faux pas as we went to the caf. After breakfast, Steve and I went to my house and the dogs made themselves scarce until dinner.

After a couple of days like this, I invited him to bring some things over and I started to demand rewards for finishing the obstacle course.

My mind had a tendency to wander, and I had to exercise some discipline to keep focused. We were gearing up for the real trial of the new arc reactor engine. It had taken several prototypes to get everything working. At first, I'd machined the parts too close and they wouldn't move. Then it was too loose, and a few more models to get it right. We'd tested it, we knew it worked...in the lab, sitting on a plinth. But now it was mounted on a motorcycle and this was what we'd been waiting for. 

I met the engineers and mechanics and Tony on the runway. "We should have a test track," I said to him as Natasha walked up to us. She'd be testing the motorcycle and she looked eager.

"This better be decent," she warned us. "I'm going to be so disappointed if performance is subpar. I ride only the best," she said, then nodded to someone over my shoulder. "Isn't that right, honey?" she said, and I turned, tamping down the chortles, to see Bucky looking somehow both inscrutable and embarrassed. Tony didn't bother to stifle his laughter. Steve put his arm around me and kissed the top of my head as the rest of the team assembled. Then Natasha strode over to the motorcycle and swung her leg over the seat, tugging on her helmet. It started on the first try, always a good sign. The engine itself was quiet; she shot forward with the smallest motion of her hand and I smiled in victory. She'd never needed to worry about the power. Our concern, actually, was that there was too much and might be dangerous. The engineers had their laptops out and were looking at the data that was rolling in from the sensors. Natasha circled the runway once, then started another, testing the handling. When she finally pulled up, we all cheered and I gave Tony a big hug before going to congratulate the engineers and mechanics who had designed the motorcycle and talking to Natasha.

"We have GOT to do more missions where I drive this thing," she said, exhilarated. Bucky winced, but when Tony encouraged everybody to have a try, he was the first one in line. Then Steve drove, then me, then Sam and Scott and Tony.

"We need a fleet," Sam said. "We could be our own motorcycle club, driving around the country on these fine things, righting wrongs as we go."

I tried to imagine Vision in a leather jacket, cruising the highway, and my brain got stuck. Then Tony wanted to talk about modifying the design for other vehicles. The engineers took the motorcycle away and I felt a little bad; they were going to test it to failure; I had to remind myself that we could and would make new ones. It was important that we find out how the new alloys and the new design would perform under high stress. Our party began to disperse; Steve walked me to the turnoff to my workshop and we parted company.

When I went into the workshop, there was a pile of metal fragments on the bench. I knew I hadn't left anything when I went to see the testing. I sifted through the fragments, frowning. Then I shoveled it all into a box and ran up the hill.

I burst into the room with Loki's cell and he stood up, surprised by my entrance. I made the guard open the door and shoved the box at Loki. As soon as he took it, the guard locked the door again and looked at me reproachfully, but I didn't care. Loki poked through the fragments, and I knew he'd seen what I'd seen when his fair skin went bone white.

"What could destroy Mjolnir?" I asked him, trying and failing to keep my voice level. Loki just stared at me.

"I don't know."


	2. So very not calm.

"The magic is gone," I pointed out.

"I noticed that, yes," Loki said.

"Could....could the hammer be reforged?" I asked, and I hated how little-girl my voice sounded.

"I don't see how," Loki said after a moment. "The dwarves of Nidavellir forged it in the heart of a star. It is uru, with characteristics of both metal and stone; only a few are capable of working it."

"Are you saying I can't do it?" I demanded to know, my pride momentarily stung, overlooking the whole "forged in a star" thing.

"Well, I cannot say for certain," he said, backpedallingfast. "If you manage it, fair Emma, you will take your rank among the legendary smiths of the Nine Realms." For one wild moment I wondered if that honor came with a plaque and entry into a clubhouse where the smiths could talk about techniques and wild forge stories.

"But that only solves the problem of the physical hammer," I said, chewing on a nail. "Where did the magic come from, originally? Could you redo the spell?"

"I cannot," Loki said heavily. "Odin himself enchanted the hammer. The Allfather used the Odinforce, which is his alone to command. While he lives." He silently picked a piece of the dull metal out of the box, rubbing his thumb over it, then dropped it. "Emma, if Mjolnir lies here in twisted shards, my brother must be dead," he said, more to himself than me. He spun away violently. "Heimdall!" he screamed, rage and panic and fear twisting in his voice.

The Bifrost didn't open. I didn't really expect it to.

What I also didn't expect was a shaft of light and the appearance of a great sword clattering to the floor.

Loki seemed similarly taken aback. He approached it and picked it up, recognition shading his features. "Laevateinn," he murmured, "I thought you lost." Hastily spinning down my vision, I saw a mediocre sword over which a subtle magic writhed. It matched Loki's own. "I made this myself," he said, still murmuring. I prudently held my tongue.

"I know I promised not to escape," he said abruptly, "but circumstances have changed." Before I could do or say anything, he brought the sword down on the seam of the high-tech door, shearing through the locks with ease. Loki shouldered through the door, threw me a smile that was equally sad and fierce, and strode for the door. I ran after him, chasing him down the hall and up the stairs. 

"Loki, wait!" I called, and he turned to look at me. Just as the Bifrost bridge opened to him.

And he was gone.

"Son of a bitch!" I shrieked, then pulled out my phone and called Nick.

Nick was inclined to rant at me about letting Loki go, and this perturbed me enough that I got into his face and pointed out that I was unarmed, under six feet tall, and really not able to stop a god who was much taller and stronger and POSSESSING A MAGIC SWORD THAT JUST FELL INTO HIS CELL. So Nick had to stop, reevaluate his position, and went off to collect the recordings of the episode. I trudged down to the basement to retrieve the box of Mjolnir bits.

Then I hurried over to the clinic and up to Odin's room. The guard was surprised at my appearance, but the ravens appeared on cue. It was kind of eerie how they always showed up when I did. I held out the box to the ravens, who cocked their heads and looked in. Then I apprised all three of them of the recent developments, including Loki's dramatic escape, and waited for a response. One of the birds said "caw" but I didn't know how to take it.

"It would be great if you would wake up and provide some guidance," I said without much hope, and the silence stretched out. "Didn't think so," I muttered, and opened the window for the birds to exit. They didn't budge, so I let the guard know that they might be staying for awhile. He looked as thrilled as I felt.

As I was walking down the path to my workshop, my phone chimed with an immediate summons to a meeting. As we filed into the conference room, everybody else looked confused. Tony took one look at me and said, "I bet you know what's going on."

"I wish," I said glumly, clutching my box to my chest as I took my seat. "I just know what happened." Tony's brow furrowed as he tried to figure out the distinction.

"All right," Nick said briskly as soon as we were all seated. "Congratulations on the successful test of the new engine. Now we've got other problems. I'm going to let our eyewitness tell you what happened." I bared my teeth at him.

"Ok. After the test, I went back to my workshop and found this on the bench." I placed the box on the table and opened it, extracting a shard to show to everybody.

"What is that?" Bucky asked, puzzled.

"Mjolnir. Or rather, it was Mjolnir." I shook my head and tossed the bit back in with the other pieces. "Somehow it was shattered. The magic's gone." Everybody stood up to look in the box.

"Then what happened?" Steve asked, taking my hand in his.

"I scooped it all into the box and took it to Loki, hoping that maybe he'd know what destroyed it."

"Did he?"

"No." I sighed. "And then--"

"There's a then?" Tony quipped, but he wasn't laughing.

"Yep. And then. Then a big-ass sword fell into the cell out of nowhere. Loki recognized it as something he'd made, very average work but it had that creepy magic to it, cut the door open, charged out, up the stairs and out. Where he was sucked up by the damned Bifrost! And then I went to tell Odin about it because even if I can re-form Mjolnir, he's the one who'd have to renew the enchantment on it, but predictably, he just lay there." I was a little resentful about that. Everybody gaped at me for a second, then exploded with questions. Nick put the surveillance footage up, and it was just as I'd said.

"Can you fix it?" Steve asked me under the fuss.

"I don't know," I said truthfully. "Loki said that it was made in the core of a star. I don't have that kind of pyrotechnics available."

"You can do it," he said encouragingly. I just looked at him. "It has atoms, doesn't it? And if it has atoms, you can shove them around." I smiled at him. Bless him for trying to buck me up.

After everybody was brought up to date and had the opportunity to ask questions, the meeting broke up and Steve walked me all the way to my workshop, coming in and looking around for more surprises. There were none, but he had earned a hug. I snuggled in so I could hear his heartbeat, and he kissed the top of my head.

"I'm not trying to pressure you, sweetheart, but I'd like you to try to remake that hammer," he said, and I liked the way his voice resonated in his chest, deep and reassuring. "One step at a time, but if there's as much trouble afoot as seems likely, we'll need it. And you can use it."

"I could lift it," I corrected. "Before it was destroyed. I never tried to use it, and who knows what would happen IF the enchantment was renewed and IF I can still lift it?"

"Still, he said, and after a moment I sighed.

"Still," I agreed.

After a moment, he kissed me thoroughly and smacked my butt. "Ok, tiger, get to work," he encouraged/directed me before departing.

I took a shard out of the box and began to explore its properties.

It was hard going. The atoms were very resistant to moving, very unlike a metal, and unlike stone as well; I picked up a rock outside and poked around for comparison purposes. By the time Steve picked me up for dinner, I had a headache. I had a headache for most of the next few days, in fact, and I wasn't sleeping well. Finally Steve almost literally dragged me to the clinic, where they measured my brainwaves for comparison with previous scans. We had to wait awhile for the doctors to interpret the results.

"Interesting," Dr Harris said succinctly. "Activity in the hypocampus, which governs memory, learning, and recalling spatial relationships in the world around us, and the parietal lobe, associated with movement, orientation, recognition, perception of stimuli, as well as the frontal lobe, which is associated with reasoning, planning, parts of speech, movement, emotions, and problem solving, are highly stimulated. Activity in the parts of the brain that deal with body movement and sensory analysis, such as the pons and midbrain, emotion in the amygdala, and audio and visual processing in the occipital and temporal lobes are a little depressed. None of this is dangerous, at least at this time, but it appears to be throwing things out of whack in your brain and hence your headaches. This does seem to correspond to scans we have of you using your mental ability, but these scans show a much more acute effect. So my diagnosis is to stop doing whatever it is that you do for a bit, allow your brain to rest and recover. Perhaps engage in physical activity; endorphins might help." I thanked Dr Harris and Steve made me eat a large, healthy dinner before taking me home and engaging with me in some fairly strenuous physical activities that definitely stimulated my brain stem functions and created a surge of endorphins.

The next morning started off with more vigorous exercise, followed by the obstacle course and leg day at the gym, which almost overcame all my lovely warm feelings for Steve. Since I couldn't use my ability and I didn't have any data from the engine testing to work with yet, I went to my forge and created some decorative elements for my costume, taking the time to do some engraving on them for aesthetic appeal. There was a zipper for the summer costume that came up my torso to end between my boobs; on the toggle, which rested over my heart, I engraved Steve's star. It was hidden under the upper portion of the costume, which was separate like a bolero jacket that I could take off when I wasn't in the thick of it, so it would be just my secret. For the rest of it, I used variations on the art nouveau whiplash; it was elegant and reminiscent of the urumi. In response to a questionnaire from Promotions, I named my new poleaxe Nike but refused to name the urumi. I felt kind of bad about liking a weapon like that; it could reduce a person to a screaming, bloody heap on the floor with just a few passes. Promotions was unfazed by my disinclination to name the weapon (I didn't explain why; the more info you gave them, the more they would us it to shape your public image) and named it "Nemesis," using the Greek goddess of revenge, balance, righteous indignation, and retribution to balance the use of the name of the goddess of victory.

I took the box of Mjolnir shards with me everywhere I went; there was nothing on the security cams in my workshop to explain how they got there--they were not there one moment, there was a hesitation in the recording, then there they were, falling a short distance to the bench top in a little rain--and I didn't want to risk losing them again. I kept my promise to Steve to not try to force the atoms to move. I wasn't sure I could do the job, despite the poke to my pride that would produce. I did try a few method of physical formation of a couple of the shards, but I wasn't surprised when they didn't work.

That night I hosted a girls' night out--we couldn't really go out-out since the other two were so recognizable they tended to draw crowds and this would probably end my anonymity as Paladin so we met at my house. Natasha made a pitcher of martinis and we played poker as we decompressed.

"I wouldn't be so sure that Thor is dead just because the hammer is in pieces," Wanda said in reference to Loki's reaction, discarding an eight and a five. Natasha dealt her two cards.

I had a crap hand and discarded a two, a five, and a nine. "I was wondering about that," I admitted. "Thor really relies on the hammer and it would be crippling to him if he had to fight without it, but I don't think he'd be unable to function without it."

"He does have some kind of connection with it, though," Natasha said, discarding a single card. I looked at her sharply. She had no tells that I could discern, so I couldn't tell if she had a winning hand or crap like mine.

"Yes," Wanda said, casually anteing up. I folded. Natasha anted up as well, and raised with half her almonds. "There's some mystical link that allows the hammer to perceive worthiness, to obey Thor's commands." She met and raised with a full-sized peanut butter cup, a bold move. Natasha was still in and raised with two Crunch bars. Wanda called and the hands were shown; Natasha had crap, Wanda had a full house. She raked in the pot, sharing the Crunch bars with us.

"It must be that enchantment," Natasha said as the deal passed to Wanda. 

"The material's weird stuff," I said. "It's conductive, but not, not malleable, not ductile...it's a pain in the ass, actually."

"I thought you were having headaches," Natasha said slyly as we picked up the cards. I flipped her off and they laughed. Then the conversation turned to sex, as it usually does at some point.

"So did you have to review the basics with Cap when you hooked up again?" Natasha wanted to know, taking the dangerous step of eating one of her highest point chips, a truffle. "I plan on winning yours, I can afford to live large," she said airily when I looked at it pointedly.

"Actually, no," I said, arranging my cards. "He has acquired a library."

"Do tell," she said, eyebrows arching. "I didn't see any sexy books the last time I was in there with James."

"Threesomes?" Wanda said, teasing her.

"Oh, no," Natasha said. "I'm not sharing James with anybody." We exploded, giggling.

"He got some books on technique and positions," I said, discarding two cards. "Some erotic fiction. They're on the lower shelf, behind his reading chair and the floor lamp. He said he wanted to be prepared in case I came back."

"Aw, that's kind of sweet," Natasha said.

"Prepared how?" Wanda asked. "Handcuffs and blindfolds, or just a new position?"

"I am not telling you guys," I said, laughing. "I will just say that we are both happy." Steve would freak if I told people what we got up to.

"I wonder if that's some old guy reticence," Natasha said, unwrapping a sucker. "James is fine about doing, but he gets all red if I get too descriptive. He blushes clear to his arm." I smiled. I could see that.

"Vision gets a little too analytical," Wanda sighed. "Sometimes I feel like I'm being evaluated." I pushed over three almonds and a mini Mr Goodbar in consolation.

After the game broke up (Natasha had indeed won all my truffles), I called Steve to tell him the coast was clear.

"Good. Tony's really lowering the tone around here," he said, and in the background I could hear Tony objecting. He offered to come over, for which I was grateful; it had been a long day. And maybe I was selfish, but I slept better in my own bed with the dogs having taken over one of the spare rooms, cuddled up with Steve.

At some point in the dark of the night, I woke up. I woke up instantly, I should say, completely alert, which just never happens. I eased away from Steve, unwrapping his arm gently, and went into the bathroom. With the box of Mjolnir.

This time I sat on the floor and poured all the shards out on the tile. Then I closed my eyes and sort of reached out to the pieces, showing them what I wanted them to become, providing direction and will. And slowly, they consolidated. And slowly, after a mass had formed, a little stump grew. And then the substance stilled. I put the box in the trash can and took Stumpy out with me, putting it on the night stand and crawling back under the sheets where I belonged, and I went right back to sleep.


	3. Parts begin to move

"I thought you agreed not to work on that thing for awhile, Emma," Steve said the next morning, a frown in his voice. I took time out from selecting my lingerie to appreciate his form as he came out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower, to see Stumpy on the nightstand.

"It actually isn't what you think, Steve," I started to say.

"My eyes are up here, sweetheart," he said. "And I'm thinking you used your mojo to stick those bits together again."

My eyes traveled leisurely to his face and I smiled. "You'd think wrong, actually. I just showed them what I wanted them to to do and they did it." I stepped into some panties, put my arms through the bra straps, and walked over to have Steve fasten it. He did, and kissed the nape of my neck.

"Ok," he said in a voice that expressed that he was still in the dark. "I worry about you, Emma. I don't want you to burn out that wonderful brain."

"I don't have a trace of a headache," I said, reluctantly stepping away to put on my blouse. "I think I was getting headaches because I was trying to force it to do something. When I showed it an image of what it had looked like and kind of invited it to reform that way, I provided the will and it went along with it. It's so hard to explain. It does not have a brain or intelligence or any kind of sentience. What it has is...something else. I can't explain what it is without sounding like it has a personality or desire. Keep in mind that it doesn't have any of that, but the best I can explain is to say is that it wants to be what it was. I showed it a way, and we went several steps on that road. We stopped when it wanted to. I think that it might need some time to kind of rest along the way. I think it will let me know when it's ready for the next step." I stepped into a pair of black wool trousers and tucked the tails of the blouse inside the waistband. "And I'm willing to prove that I'm right. After breakfast, we can go to the clinic and they can hook me up again."

He smiled finally and brushed some of my hair back. "After breakfast," he agreed.

The tests showed that everything was functioning in line with my baseline and there was no apparent damage. I contained my smirk.

I almost went downstairs to consult with Loki before I remembered he'd flown the coop. I felt that I should keep Odin in the loop, and hauled Stumpy with me when I went to visit. As usual, the ravens arrived when I did and I showed all three of them my progress.

"It will take a few more sessions when it's ready to get the hammer back into its original shape," I reported, setting the hammer on the bed by Odin's legs so that the birds could get a good look. "But I'm positive it can be done. The problem is getting the magic. The enchantment renewed, I guess I should say."

"Caaaaaw," said one of the ravens. Encouragingly? I hoped so.

"Indeed," I said. "I wish I knew what you just said, though." I picked up Stumpy thoughtfully.

"ussssse... Odinforce" I heard, and I whipped my head around to see Odin's mouth relaxing. I bolted for the door and the doctor.

"Well, I'm sorry to have to say that whatever you heard doesn't seem to be an indication of the patient waking," Dr Staley said sympathetically after performing some tests as I waited in the hall. 

I went back to work, grumpy. A few hours later, though, I was struck by inspiration and went up to see Nick.

"I thought you weren't going to be able to put that thing together," he said, eyeing Stumpy from where it sat on his desk. He reached out, then hesitated and looked at me. I nodded, and he picked it up. "Huh," he said. "It's lighter than I expected."

I nodded. "The enchantment apparently makes it heavier." I went on to explain what had happened when I saw Odin earlier. "So I was thinking. Do you know how to contact Dr Strange?"

In the end, Nick agreed to reach out to the doctor and ask him to come to evaluate the situation.

On my way to dinner, I stopped outside the caf and gave Pete a call. "I wanted you to know what was going on out here," I said after I'd explained as concisely as possible. "And also to ask if you could plead our case to Dr Strange as well."

"You're up to something, aren't you, Em?" he said after a moment.

"Yes." And I told him what my goal was.

"If I appeal to his vanity, I think he'll do it," Pete said after a moment. "I'll leave him a message that I need to talk to him."

"Thanks, honey," I said. We chatted a bit about his schoolwork and extracurriculars; Steve found me and leaned in to say hi.

"Is that Mr Rogers?" Peter asked. I smiled; he always seemed so excited to talk to his role models. He and Steve talked a little, then he had to go.

"Love you, Pete," I said, and turned off the phone. Steve gave me a kiss.

"Get a room, horn dog," Natasha said as she bumped past him to go in for dinner. Bucky looked amused as he followed in her wake, then held the door for me.

"So, what's up? Aside from another of your PDAs," Natasha asked as we sat down.

"Hopefully Dr Strange will be coming out for a visit," I said, cutting into the chicken piccatta.

"Why?" Steve asked as the others looked their question too.

"Because I want to know if he can somehow tap into the Odinforce to bespell the hammer again," I said factually. "Yum."

"I thought Loki said his brother was dead," Bucky said, frowning.

"I think it was said in a moment of despair," I said reflectively. "We talked about it the other night over cards," I nodded at Natasha.

"Right. Why return the pieces if the hammer isn't needed anymore? It could be a message, but we don't know for sure." She looked at Stumpy. "I gotta say, Emma, that this isn't up to your usual standards. There isn't even enough handle to get a good grip on."

"Well, it's not my usual work. I think it's just going to take some time to get it to its final form." I patted Stumpy. "In fact..." Stumpy seemed to be reaching out to me, more clearly than it had before. I put my hand on it and showed where it could alter itself to become more Mjolnir-like. The shape refined itself and the handle elongated almost to its final length. I patted it again when it was done. "Almost there, pal," I said affectionately, and looked up to see everybody staring at me. "What?" I asked, going back to my lunch. It hadn't cooled off too much.

"That was the creepiest thing I've seen," Bucky said. "And I've seen some creepy shit." He got his wallet out and handed Steve a dollar.

"It looked almost molten," Natasha said with a shudder. "Flowing around your hand. And you were just sitting there like nobody was home."

"I have to keep a clear picture of what it was in my head so that it can have a model," I said around a mouthful of roasted potatoes. "We're almost done now. There's a little fine tuning of the form and I need a hole so that the leather cord can be attached. Plus we need to work on the decorative knotwork pattern on the faces of the hammer. It wants to be pretty again." They all started to laugh. "What? It wants to look good as it kicks...butt. I thought for sure you'd understand, Natasha." She carefully blotted her eyes.

"Oh, I do," she said, her laughter finally calming. "Just never thought I'd have something in common with a hammer."

"You look ok," Steve said, looking me over carefully. I patted his hand.

"Now that it's more cohesive, it actually seems to return energy to me as it works. I feel great." I smiled at him and put my hand on his shoulder.

"Save the booty call for after lunch, kids," Natasha said, sighing, and Bucky grinned at her. So after a piece of mint chocolate cheesecake, we did.

When I went back to the workshop, I had a message from the engineers that the engine hadn't failed yet, although replaceable parts had; O rings and the like had gone through several changes. They wanted a bigger one to play with and were sending over the model that they'd made so I could cast it. Excellent. I was getting tired of playing around with costume enhancement. About an hour later, they pushed a couple of lab carts up the ramp. I chatted with the engineers about it for awhile, establishing the time line, making sure I had all the information, hearing about the testing that was still going on with the motorcycle engine.

I was going over the formula for the alloy when the campus alarm blared. Nick told us that an airborne object was approaching the campus and we were to suit up and he would inform us when the crash site was calculated. Grateful that my suit was in the workshop, I immediately stripped down and zipped up. Anybody walking by would have gotten an eyeful, but I wasn't concerned. Nick said that the landing site was going to be on the obstacle course. I grinned, imagining Steve's consternation and my impending liberation, and the dogs and I ran up. We were the first ones there, and I put on my new mask and gripped Nike's pole tightly. I scanned the sky and found the heat from the approaching...thing. Steve stopped beside me, shading his eyes, but it was too small to see yet.

"Have I told you how good you look in that thing?" he asked, still trying to see what I was tracking.

"I have a hot designer," I said, smiling slightly as he put his hand on my hip. Then we were silent as everybody else currently on site joined us.

"Did you ever get the feeling like the ceiling is coming down?" Tony muttered, standing on my other side. There were murmurs. "I think that this is a big chunk." We were hit by a hot blast of air as the thing blew past us, making me stumble from the pressure of the wash. We ran after it, coming up to it as it came to a halt after taking out several trees and the new, taller wall on the course. I couldn't help feeling a wave of gratitude for the thing. It would take a few days for the groundskeepers to clean up all the mess.

We approached with caution. It was a ship of unfamiliar design, showing signs of damage like it had taken fire. Captain America took charge. "Find the door," he directed, and we found it. "P, do your thing." I straightened the track that allowed the door to retract and fiddled around with the opening mechanism, damaged in the crash. Finally I looked up and nodded to Cap. "Ok, Ant-man. Give us some information." I eased the door open and Scott strode in, his helmet providing effective filtration of the acrid smoke.

"Small open area, kind of like the new quinjet," he reported. "One large male is down on the floor. Another is slumped over the console. I think the crash knocked them out."

"Tony, Bucky, Natasha. Let's go. Sam, find out where medical is," Cap ordered crisply. The rest of us waited. "Sam, tell medical we need the reinforced equipment," he added after a moment.

It wasn't long before the first ambulance, one of the normal ones, pulled up and personnel jumped out and Vision directed them in. The smoke had at least tapered off. Then the special ambulance arrived, and larger, reinforced gurneys were removed from the back. The rest of us stood back as they approached and wrestled the first gurney through the door.

Time passed, and finally the gurney was shoved out, empty. Then the medics assisted someone out. I frowned as I recognized Volstagg, one of Thor's treasured companions. I felt hope. Maybe the other person was Thor.

It was a blond man, but it was Fandral, not Thor. The two Asgardians walked under their own power to the ambulances, but the medics helped them over the churned up ground. Cap came out. "Emma, I want you, Scott, and Stark to map this thing, find out what's broken and see if you think you can fix it." I nodded and walked in.

The smoke was mostly cleared and I looked around. "What do we think?" I said, going over to the guidance position. It had a viewscreen rather than a windshield and a split console that seemed to be the source of the smoke. 

"This pretty cool," Scott said enthusiastically. "It's my first spaceship. The electrics are fried, but if you can produce an alloy that works for these super-duper circuits, we should be able to fix it." And he was the electrical engineer, he should know. 

Tony wasn't as excited, but then he'd encountered spaceships before. "This baby's been through some fire," he said. "The exterior sensors are mostly gone or heavily damaged and in some places the hull integrity is dangerously weak. I'm amazed that they risked flying this thing."

"Unless the situation they were in was worse than the risk," Scott said practically from the guts of the left-hand console. Sometimes it's easy to underestimate Scott because he's usually so cheerful.

Tony grunted and left to bring back some pads to work on. We worked in companionable silence, getting a firm idea of what tricks the ship had up its metaphorical sleeve and what the damage was. We were conferring about priorities and how to divvy up the work when Steve called us in for a meeting.

Tony and Scott detoured briefly to shed their suits, but mine wasn't crunchy to walk in and pretty comfortable, so I just wore it and reported in, Sigurd and Torburn padding along beside me. We were up in the meeting room and I joined Steve at the windows looking out over the campus. The ship was hidden behind the trees to the side. I put my arm around his waist and leaned my head on his shoulder. He put his arm around my shoulder.

"I like this song," he said absently; it was the Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell version of "Ain't No Mountain High Enough."

""Great, it can be your song," Tony said irritably. Steve turned to look at him; I goosed Steve's very toned behind and went to sit down. Nick conferenced in T'Challa and (a little surprisingly) Phil. Pete was still in class, so he was the only one not included. I'd bring him up to speed later. Natasha led the Asgardians in, looking a little the worse for wear. She marched over and wedged a chair in between Wanda and me; we scooted over, causing a ripple effect around the table. Bucky sat down on my other side and looked surprised at the Russian Natasha was speaking, so it must have been not Steve-approved language. Bucky caught my eye and winked, pulled out his wallet and began transferring money to the table. He ran out of ones pretty fast and had to use larger denominations, trading out bills to keep track. She wound down when she saw what he was doing and leaned over to whisper that the two visitors were pigs. Great.

Steve stayed standing by the windows, arms folded, legs braced. Man, I loved that pose. So heroic. So hot. That is the jaw of a hero. "Suppose you tell us what brings you here," he said pleasantly to Fandral and Volstagg. They looked at each other and Fandral coughed.

"Much has happened on Asgard, I scarcely know where to begin," he said.

"Perhaps you could start by telling us what Odin was doing wandering around the city like a crazy homeless person," Steve urged.

"The Allfather is here?" Fandral asked, brightening.

"Physically," I said. "Hugin and Munin are also around," I added. "Odin's catatonic, or at any rate, non-responsive."

The Asgardians slumped in their chairs. "I suppose this all started when Hela came to the halls of Odin," Fandral said, depressed. "She is the ruler of the underworld in several of the Nine Realms, and arrived to petition for control of Valhalla as well as she does from time to time. As is his custom, Odin refused her request; he enjoys keeping the rule of that place, the hall of the heroes of Asgard and Midgard who fall in glorious battle." I raised my eyebrows; I didn't know that people from Earth could aspire. It probably had to do with the pagan worship of these people as gods, though, so the Valkyries wouldn't be coming for me. "Odin extended her the hospitality of the gods, and she stayed for a few days. Then one morning, Odin was gone and Hela sat on the throne of Asgard. No one knew of his fate and Hela refused to tell. Thor became upset." He and Volstagg exchanged glances. I think we could all picture Thor losing his temper. "Hela descended from the throne, called him a pup and blasted Mjolnir with Odin's staff Gungnir, reducing it to bits." Everybody looked at me. No wonder Mjolnir was in such dire straits; the Spear of Heaven had a lot more juice than Mjolnir did.

"She called for the guards, who removed him to the dungeons. When we managed to get down there a few days later he was gone. Not dead--"

"Not at the time, anyway," Volstagg muttered.

"Not then, but banished to the arena of the Grandmaster. We do not know how he fares."

"Where's Heimdall in all of this?" I asked, frowning.

"He serves the ruler of Asgard," Volstagg said, shrugging, looking at me like I was impertinent.

"He hasn't been injured lately?" I pressed, and Fandral looked at me like I was mad.

"No. Hela needs the guardian of the Bifrost as much as Odin did."

Tony was right. They sounded like bad Shakespeare in the park. But if he hasn't been injured lately, at least he hasn't been to the well of knowledge at the roots of the tree of life, and Ragnarok wasn't imminent.

"She exiled Hogun back to Vanaheim," Volstagg muttered. "All non-Asgardians have been banished."

"And Loki is back," Fandral said venomously.

"Heimdall brought him back under the Queen's orders, waving his sword Laevateinn as if he knew what to do with it," Volstagg said contemptuously. "And Hela took him out of the hall for some time; when they returned, she put him at her right hand."

"Still, he did break us out of the cell," Fandral admitted reluctantly.

"Why'd he do that?" Tony asked.

Volstagg shrugged. "He said Hela would be sending us to the Grandmaster since we are Thor's boon companions and asked if we wanted to help Thor. We thought that if we could get out, we actually could help Thor, so we agreed. He smuggled us out to that ship, which was abandoned on Asgard by Maleketh, and got us aboard. He had plotted its destination and it took us here," he finished, a little contemptuously.

"What's Hela's next moves, do you estimate?" Steve asked.

"Find ways to legitimize her rule," Fandral said. "She could open the doors to her halls and the dead would rise. People would be too terrified to oppose her."

"She could also open her doors to a few of the most legendary warriors," Volstagg mused. "Same effect, less effort. There are many who would seek revenge against Odin."

He sat in silence, contemplating these revelations, until the phone burped and Nick picked up the receiver. After he hung up, he beckoned me outside, past the glass wall. "Strange just landed," he said quietly. "Meet him at Odin's room and get him to work. Report to me personally when he makes up his mind." I nodded, and when he went back inside the conference room, the dogs trotted out to accompany me.

I beat Strange to the clinic, but just barely. He caught up to us just outside Odin's room. " Dr Strange," I said, turning when I heard his cape flapping. The ornate pendant at his throat winked in the light. "Thank you for agreeing to come see the situation."

Strange hovered a little, not as supercilious as usual as he looked down at me. "Perilous events are occurring all over the universe," he said after a moment. "This dethroned king is the key to solving some of them. If my intervention will help in resolution, I will act." His gaze fell on the dogs, and it sharpened the longer he looked at them. For their part, they sat silently and calmly, looking back at him. "Those are remarkable creatures," he finally said, the first genuine smile I'd seen from him curling his lips.

"Yes, they are," I agreed, and motioned toward the door. "This way, Doctor."

He floated after me, watching as I opened the window for the ravens. They cocked their glossy black heads as they studied him, and the reverse. Then Strange took in the figure on the bed. I waited patiently for Strange to finish whatever he was doing, leaning on the wall, Torburn leaned against my leg, and Sigurd lay down.

Finally Strange jerked once and his feet found the ground. He turned toward me and I shoved off the wall, Sigurd sat up.

"I believe that I can direct the Odinforce into the hammer," he said confidently. "It will, however, require some preparation. Finish the work on the hammer if it will let you; it will be almost impossible to complete once the enchantment is active again. Return in three hours with it." He regarded me. "And bring your weapons. Mjolnir is a weapon for warriors and it will help if it easily recognizes you as such. And if you have something that looks more...traditional to wear. The dogs should be witness." Sigurd wagged his tail, and we were off, back to the workshop. I called Nick from there and he told me to go ahead and do whatever was needed.

I got the hammer done just in time, down to the decoration that the hammer seemed to prefer. I threaded the leather strap through the hole in the handle and wrapped the handle to aid grip. Steve came by and I quickly updated him.

"Just be careful, Emma," he said, helping me put on the white armor. I coiled the urumi in a sheath and fastened it to my hip as Steve stood behind me and attached the blue cloak I'd received as a gift and didn't wear much anymore. I picked up Nike and we walked to the crossroads together; I took the path to the clinic with Sigurd and Torburn and he continued on to the caf. They were going to have dinner with the Asgarians and then go up to the rec room. 

Strange was there, sitting in the chair by Odin's bedside. The ravens hadn't left. One of them cawed when I entered the room and Strange looked up. "Excellent," he said, looking at my armor. "Place the hammer here," indicating the table that swung over the bed. I could practically feel its eagerness to resume its purpose. I stood it, handle up, on the table and stepped back.

Strange stood and placed one hand on Odin's brow. For a moment, there was the sense of something building, and a bolt of electricity arced from Odin to the hammer. The overhead light sparked and died; the only light was the energy transfer into the hammer. A tendril split from the main force and hit me. There was a rather unpleasant sensation of energy running through me, then it stopped abruptly. I shook a moment with the power of the thing after, Then the electricity cut off completely. Strange slouched where he stood.

"Doctor?" I said softly, blinking the afterimage of the electricity away.

"I'm fine," he said brusquely. "Odin will begin to wake soon. The enchantment closing in his mind has also been broken. It will take some time and he will be confused, be patient. He will recover." He floated over to the hammer but did not touch it. He smiled. "This enchantment has been restored," he said complacently. "The hammer will want companionship as it readjusts," he said. "Anyone who can lift it can provide it until the magic stabilizes. And no, I don't know how long that will take." Suddenly he yawned. "I'm going back to New York," he said. "I've done all I can here."

I approached the hammer, truly Mjolnir again, and put out a hand, then hesitated. "You reforged it," Strange said impatiently. "It trusts you. Pick it up." So I did.

I'd been a little worried. Maybe it hadn't been respectful to call it Stumpy.

I asked one of the clinic guards to escort the doctor back to the quinjet and the dogs and I went back to the workshop where I took off the armor and racked the weapons before picking Mjolnir up again and walking up to the rec room. I could hear dissension in the stairwell as I climbed. Bucky had just said that the Asgardians needed to stop talking down to the women or one of us would put them in the hospital.

"My money's on Natasha," Jim said. "Wanda would have them sobbing in the corner and Emma would ignore the sexism until she snapped and cut them into little bloody chunks." All eyes swung to me as we entered the room. Steve sat back and smiled, and Nick relaxed in his corner.

"That cannot be,' Fandral breathed, eyes fixed on the hammer. I placed it on the table.

"It is," I confirmed.

Volstagg got to his feet and pulled. It didn't budge, and he let go of the handle with a cry as it sparked.

"Yeah, apparently it will take some time for the enchantment to sink in again," I said nonchalantly. Vision came over and picked it up, examining it and nodding.

"This is lovely work, Emma," he said, and I smiled. "The enchantment is sound, but there's also a sense of your own personal skill throughout, just a trace."

It's always nice to be appreciated.

"Where did you get that?" Fandral demanded.

"It appeared one day. I don't know how it got there." There were a lot of questions from the others, and Volstagg and Fandral demanded to see Odin immediately.

"Not until the doctor says it's ok," Nick said, putting his foot down.

"Unauthorized attempts will result in me seeing if I can use Mjolnir to knock you into the middle of next week," I said pleasantly. Natasha's chortles grew into a guffaw as the two Asgardians backed down reluctantly. 

Shortly thereafter, the 'party' broke up and people left for their apartments; Volstagg and Fandral had been assigned rooms in the residence. Steve and I lingered as I finished my drink. Gatorade; I'd felt a little depleted after all the excitement. Steve put the Marvin Gaye song on the jukebox and we listened it cuddled up on the sofa.

"It really could be our song," I said. "I feel like I could knock aside mountains to get to you."

"With that hammer, probably," he said peaceably, pressing a kiss to my temple.

"Now we need to get word to Thor. Once he knows, he can summon Mjolnir to him, even across the Nine Realms," I said, yawning.

"Really?"

"Yep. The depth of the power it possesses I can't really understand. It's literally beyond my comprehension. I might be able to use it in small ways, but for Thor, its true possessor...." I shook my head. "I can't imagine what all it could do."

"We'd better get some sleep, sweetheart," he said as I yawned again. "There's a lot to get done and I think we're on the clock now." We stayed in the residence that night in his suite. "I wanted to ask you to consider moving in with me," I murmured as we snuggled in the bed. "There's a lot going on now, though."

"Yeah, I'd like that," he said, spooning me and putting his arm around my waist.

"I wondered if you'd like the attic as sort of a personal space," I said, lacing our fingers.

"Get a rug for in front of the fireplace," he said. "I'd like you to sit for some sketches. It'll be new to have my muse as a live model."

"So that's a yes?"

"Definitely a yes. When can I move in?"


	4. Fish and houseguests

The next morning, I got a special dispensation from running the obstacle course since half of it had been taken out by the space craft, so we used the time wisely, then took a load of Steve's things over to my house. I still had to work out in the gym, but I didn't fuss, recalling how physical exercise balances out using my ability too much. I had a feeling I was going to be working hard.

I met Scott and Tony back at the ship and this time things geared up. Scott tested an intact circuit so he could tell me what qualities were needed for the wiring and we decided that the first order of business was to repair the electrical systems, which meant that I was going to have to create an alloy and draw lots of wire. Depending on the metal type, I would probably have to make a new drawplate, as most of the alloys would destroy a normal steel one well before I completed my work. I took a sample back to the workplace to examine and found to my relief that I could recreate this wire pretty easily. It didn't even need my special touch, so after getting estimates of the amount that Scott and Tony thought they'd need, I placed an expedited order for the quantities and arranged for pickup. Natasha and Bucky volunteered to fly to the warehouse and collect it for me; I think they regretted it because Tony immediately phoned in an order of his own to rebuild the damaged parts of the ship. Still, they were getting off campus and away for a bit.

When I went to visit Odin and his birds, I found that he'd woken up and that the doctor was pleased. "He's confused," Dr Staley said, "but that's not unexpected. The brain is a delicate organ that doesn't react well to insult of any kind. I still don't know what happened to it or how to treat...magic" he stumbled over the word "but the test results are consistent with trauma like concussions, so that's how we're treating the patient. When he improves some more, we can fine-tune our care to his needs."

When I went in, Odin was asleep but his birds were already there. They seemed to have a conversation with Sigurd and Torburn, which the dogs seemed to understand perfectly well. I wished I spoke raven too. All the chatter woke up Odin, who initially was irritable but after a few moments recognized me. His expression eased when I held up Mjolnir, then passed it to him for his inspection.

He ran his fingers over it, then nodded. "It feels different," he said slowly, "but it was created differently from its first incarnation." He nodded again.

"Well, as soon as we can find Thor, he can summon it to him," I said, and Odin's eye sharpened.

"What do you know of its abilities?" he asked.

"Not much beyond what I knew before, from watching Thor use it. But he could summon it to him and I never saw it fail to respond. And given the dimensions of its power, I have no doubt that he could summon it from any point in the Nine Realms." Odin thought this over.

"And what do you know of my son's whereabouts?"

"Volstagg and Fandral showed up yesterday in a ship apparently left over from a Dark elf incursion into Asgard. They said that Thor had been given to the Grand Master."

"Tell me all," Odin commanded, and I brought him up to date, giving him the condensed version.

He was fighting sleep at the end of the recitation. "I will need to think," he murmured. "I remember hearing you speak of events. Fix the ship." He closed his eyes, and I got up. The dogs seemed inclined to stay, so I gave ear skritches and went back to work.

When the quinjet returned, Tony and I met with the engineers who would be creating the replacement parts for the ship. I had added a little of this and that to the metal for the wire, but we decided not to include any additional elements since it didn't look like we had the time for extensive testing, and we didn't want to create a metal that would shatter in the cold of space, for example. I gave them the ratios I'd worked out for the alloy, and we all went to work. I made a small amount of alloy and set to drawing it through ever-decreasing diameter on the drawplate until the dimensions matched the original. Then I hooked a small motor up to a dowel and carefully spun the wire. Steve came by to pick me up for dinner, and I wrapped the spindle of wire in a heat-shrink tube and put Mjolnir and the spindle in a bag. We hunted up Scott in the rec room, where he was having a beer, having had a difficult time with his work on the ship. He was relieved to get the wire and we sat together awhile and talked. He's an interesting guy. He groaned when Volstagg came into the room. "I've had it with this guy," he muttered, finishing off his drink. "He treats me like a peon, not like a skilled electrical engineer who is working hard to get his big ass out of here." He tossed the can into recycling and left. Volstagg noticed us and came over. Yay.

"I have been unable to gain admittance to the Allfather," he informed me.

"Odin knows you're here," I said. "I told him myself. You'll just have to wait until he asks for you."

He was dissatisfied with my response. "And no one is working on the ship! I just came from it and it was dark and deserted. The one named Scott is unhelpful. The one named Stark had me removed from his workspace." He said 'workspace' like it was a dirty word. Maybe it was, for the warrior class. " And you sit here at your ease, attending your man as is proper, but doing nothing to help us."

I slit my eyes at him and my mouth thinned. Steve just sat there and watched, relaxed, although he wasn't pleased. I tried to think about how to present this in such a way so that even your average Asgardian could understand. "You aren't the boss of me," I said finally. "Or anyone here on Earth. We do not work for you, so we will do our work in the way that we see fit. Let me be perfectly plain. I am helping you because you're Thor's friends, not because I feel any desire to assist you. We're doing this for free, moreover. You've made it clear that you're here because Loki gave you no choice, not because you thought we could be helpful. Yet here we are, helping you. You might want to try to figure out why Loki sent you here. Exercise that brain cell. You are not my only concern. I had to put Mjolnir back together and find a way to have it reenchanted, and I have had to check in with Odin and his ravens. I have all sorts of things on my plate that have nothing to do with you, and are frankly my priority. You have managed to alienate one of the nicest, most easy-going people I know, which doesn't speak well for the less-tolerant of my friends, so you should know you're here on sufferance. You like to think like Asgardians own everything, but your power and influence here on Midgard is, basically, nil. So stop acting like we're all here to do your bidding and serve you, and if you don't stop opining about where a woman's place is, I will personally tee off on your head with Mjolnir."

Volstagg's face was a study. I put out my hand and Steve took it, pulling himself off the sofa. I picked up Mjolnir in its bag, pulled it out and flipped it end over end, smirked at Volstagg, and we left. 

"We need to get those guys out of here," Steve said as we left the building with more of his belongings. "And we also need to make some plans of our own. I don't think they'll be good allies once the ship is spaceworthy again."

"I agree. Tony or Scott should check to see if there's the equivalent of a GPS unit that will tell us how to move between the Nine Realms on our own, because I don't think that either Fandral or Volstagg will really be in the mood to share. The latest quinjet is spaceworthy, you know, the engineers thought it would be advisable after the Chitauri. I think we should plan on taking our own transportation." I chewed on my frustration for a bit. "The nerve. My place with you is because we want to be together, not because I'm subservient."

"So if I commanded you to kneel, you wouldn't?" Steve asked, chuckling.

"Here, dear?" I asked, widening my eyes in faux shock, putting my fingers on his belt buckle.

"Emma! Geeze, no, we're in public!" he hissed, mortified. Even in the dim light I could see him blushing. As I chortled and took his arm, he muttered, "But maybe later..."

"I adore you," I said, shaking my head. He gave me a quick kiss and we walked home. But, alas, a closer encounter was necessarily deferred.

Tony blew in through the kitchen door when we were putting a box of Steve's favorite books away in the library. "Those jackasses are cluttering up the rec room," he grumbled, and rummaged in the cabinets for a glass for his preferred whiskey. "Everybody else is on the way."

Sigh.

Soon we were sitting around the dining room table, first getting the grumbling out of our systems, then turning to practical matters. Since we felt that our Asgardian allies weren't to be trusted as far as pre-serum Steve could throw them, we decided to put a tracking device in their ship. They did have a log of their positions in space, which Tony had already copied, so we were pretty confident in our ability to find our way to Asgard with or without them.

"Ok, once we land on Asgard, Emma will have to find some way of making contact with Loki," Tony said.

"Why Emma?" Steve said crossly.

"Because she's probably his only friend," Tony said briskly. "And he's the only one who has the information that we need, namely, where Thor is. I personally don't care what happens on Asgard so long as it stays there, but if Thor is being held captive, we have to help him out. And find Sif, see if she needs help. From there, it would be up to Thor to ask if he needed our help, and we'd have to decide after learning the facts."

That was something we could all agree on. Our visitors had pretty much burned through our good will. Our plan involved following Volstagg and Fandral at a distance, letting them set off any booby traps, then infiltrating the palace. Steve had gotten to know the citadel well when he stayed on Asgard after Thor's rescue. I would contact Loki and we would leave. This was the ideal plan. We assumed that it wouldn't work out like that and we'd have to adjust on the fly. The most likely outcome would be that we'd be captured. If that happened, the goal would be to be sent to the Grand Master, whoever that was. We nominated Steve, as team captain, to find out who this was from Volstagg or Fandral. He grimaced but didn't complain. That sense of duty was amazing.

Aside from maybe making a few parts for the ship, my part was done there, so I could get back to my regular work, and I still had to drop in on Odin. The clarity of that first day wasn't always there; once he mistook me for Frigga, which wasn't all that fun, but gradually he improved although he was still physically weak. He said he would not be fully restored without one of the golden apples of Idunn, which grew on the eastern side of Valhalla and could only be harvested by the goddess; we would either have to get one from Idunn or Odin could ask himself. They are what allows the adult Asgardian gods their enormously long lifespan of over five thousand years, maintaining the peak of their strength and vigor for most of that time.

I was concerned about Odin's lack of weapons and made him a sword for when he was ready to return to Asgard. Something Thor or Loki had said made me think that he didn't need the Bifrost to access the Nine Realms, so it was possible he would be able to conjure himself back. Although I had no uru, I used the alloy I'd used in the knife I'd given him that he'd liked, etched knotwork down the center of the blade, and made a scabbard for it. I took it over to present to Odin, and apparently walked in while he was drawing breath in a diatribe against Fandral and Volstagg. It put him off his stride, and he took the time to examine the sword and praise its quality. The others glared at me but I ignored them. I could hear Odin yelling about disrespecting their hosts as I walked away down the hall. Excellent. When I returned the next day, we didn't mention the unpleasantness. I asked Odin about the Grandmaster because Volstagg and Fandral were pouting and wouldn't tell Steve anything.

"He is one of the Elders of the Universe, the last of his race. His obsession is games; he spends his time studying millions of worlds and all the games that they play. He used to master them, having no equal, but he grew bored. Now he uses his power to arrange competitions and tournaments with willing and unwilling volunteers. Sometimes he will wager with the players and he will always keep his word." I frowned. "His one weakness is that he himself abhors combat; he has no abilities in that area himself. His skill is all in his intellect, which is beyond imagining. No matter how clever you or your companions are, you cannot beat him in that arena," he cautioned me. "If you think there is the most remote possibility of you being captured and sent to him, bring every weapon you have."

A few days later we were ready to go. I called Peter to explain where we were going.

"Why can't I come?" he asked immediately. "I'd be helpful, you know I would be. It's the whole high school thing, isn't it?"

"Actually, for once it isn't," I said. "I know you'd be an asset, Pete, but..." I bit my lip. "We might not be coming back from this. I have no idea what we're walking into. And we just can't leave the Earth undefended, honey. You've made friends. Dr Strange, Daredevil, all the others you've been telling me about. If we don't make it back, you're going to need to take charge. I really hope it doesn't come to that."

"Em, are you crying?" he asked.

"Nope," I snuffled. "It's just raining on my face."

"You're inside," he pointed out. I used the hem of my t shirt on my face.

"I just wanted you to know, in case... I love you like a son. And I have faith in you and your abilities."

"Em--" he started, and I cut him off.

"Bye, honey." I tried to smile. "I'll call when we get back." And I cut Skype before I became a big snivelling snot monster.

A minute later, I got a text. "Love you too. Be safe. I won't let you down."

I dried my face again and went to suit up.


	5. Into the void

In the end, Odin ordered Volstagg and Fandral to play nicely with us and assigned each group a raven to keep an eye on us. Nobody talked much as we each stowed a bag and racked our weapons. Because of what Odin had said, I made sure that all of our team members had one of my best blades for a holdout weapon and made Clint some extra-rigid arrow shafts and ultra high-performance tips to his specifications. I was surprised he was going to come, but shit was coming down, and he's always there for that. I offered to make our visitors extra blades as well, but they refused. Whatever. Odin actually rolled his eyes when I told him that I'd offered and they'd turned it down.

Tony and Scott had managed to duplicate the device that allowed the Asgardians' ship to navigate between the realms, which was really fortunate as their ship was pretty small and it would have been a tight fit. they didn't have a problem arriving first, and Odin had shown us the place where we'd have the best chance of landing unobserved. We rode mostly in silence and Clint put us down us safely. We moved out quickly, only to discover that Fandral and Volstagg had gone ahead without us. Idiots. They'd probably be captured. Neither of them was stealthy. 

We were about halfway to the citadel, a nice hike, not too difficult, when we were surrounded by a patrol. They relieved us of our weapons (that they could see) and marched us into the citadel.

A woman gowned in green and black sat upon the massive golden throne, and Fandral and Volstagg were on their knees to the side when we were brought in. "Well, well," she said, rising to her feet as we were knocked to our knees. Loki, dressed in black, was standing slightly behind her on her right hand; his face so white it looked a little blue when he saw me. "Are you the best Midgard has to offer in these days?" she asked rhetorically as she descended the steps. Her voice was husky, but cold where you'd expect it to be warm. "A pity. Loki!" She snapped her fingers and after a brief hesitation, he joined her. "Introduce me." He gave her our names, and she stood in thought a moment.

"Those two are traitors to my rule," she said dismissively, and the guards dragged Fandral and Volstagg to their feet and forced them out of the hall. To the dungeons, I hoped. "Now, you are not my subjects. Yet. And I imagine that they implored your help in the hope of finding your companion, Thor. Is that correct?" she asked, spitting the question unexpectedly.

"That's about right, ma'am," Steve agreed.

"Hm." She walked around us in a large, slow circle. "I am feeling merciful, and I have more demands upon my time. I have more game pieces for the Grandmaster, it appears." She walked among us now, the hem of her skirt whispering on the stone floor. "But first--" she struggled, then wrenched the jewel from Vision's forehead. His keening was cut short and he crumpled to the floor, the sound echoing in the suddenly silent great hall. Wanda screamed and the rest of us jumped to our feet, but the fight was over before it could really start. Disheveled, cut, bruised, we were forced back down on the floor still stunned from the casual, violent death of Vision. "What were you thinking, giving an Infinity stone to a construct? You are the merest children, ignorant and unaware." Disdain and anger threaded heat through her voice. "Take the rest to await the Grandmaster's pleasure. Dump this one." She kicked Vision's body.

"Not the one called Emma," she said as we were allowed to rise. A guard shoved me back down. Damn, my knees hurt. She waited until the others had been taken away and Wanda's sobs had died away.

"It is my understanding that you cared for my son well during his captivity." I couldn't help myself; my head whipped around to look at Loki. "Yes, he is my son," the goddess of death said, a hint of amusement in her tone. "I spent some time on Jotunheim..." she shrugged. "Well. The Jotuns are a potent race. When he was born, he was a blue little thing, obviously taking after Laufey. So I left him with his father. I didn't know til later that he was expecting me to care for the infant; he wasn't interested in a half-breed." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Loki's face crumple for a moment.

"Yet he has survived this long, barely into his second millennia." Despite myself, my eyes widened. "You humans. So ridiculously impressed with such a thing as age. You think he is ancient, yet by the standards of Asgard, he is barely a man. He would be--" she paused to do some calculations. "Well, around seventeen of your years. It's obviously not a direct comparison, but you can see that he is too young for the weight of his ambitions. That Thor is no better. Odin is senile to think that such a child is fit to rule in his place." Her lips thinned but I was stunned. Loki's an emo teen? Would everything have been better if I'd just gotten him some My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy and guyliner? She tossed the bloody Mind Stone in the air, then caught it neatly. "In any case, returning this to Thanos will help to erase the debt young Loki owes him." The look she shot her son was poisonous.

"I had thought to provide him with some companionship, perhaps supply him with a concubine, but that was before I learned of his deal with Thanos. And in any case, you aren't...sufficient for my son. You'll have to go along with your companions to the Grandmaster. But I do feel a slight sense of obligation. Keeping in mind that you will be going to the games and that nothing will forestall this, have you a request?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I said demurely. How do you address a goddess? "That you send the weapons we arrived with along to the Grandmaster." She looked at me and laughed.

"Very well, you may have your little weapons. They may help to prolong your life a little further in the games. Say goodbye, Loki. There is much to be done."

Loki came over and helped me to my feet. He bent to kiss my cheek. "Thank you for your kindness, Emma," he said, shooting a furtive look at his mother, who was talking to a guard captain. "I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused. If you see Thor again, tell him that," he whispered, and I nodded.

"One of the ravens is here," I breathed to him, and he looked at me sharply, understanding that Odin was aware again.

"Enough," Hela snapped. "The Grandmaster has been notified, and he will be sending for them soon." She gestured, and a guard took my arm, pulling me down the hall. I was taken down long flights of stairs, through stone corridors, and down a long hall fitted with golden cells that looked quite a lot like the one we'd built for Loki. They halted at one; a guard at the end opened a portal and I was shoved through. My friends were there; Steve rose from the floor immediately and engulfed me in a hug so tight I thought he'd break some ribs. I never wanted him to let go. But eventually, of course, he had to, and we sat down on the floor.

Natasha had Wanda's head on her lap and was stroking her hair. "They gave her a sedative," she said bitterly. "They didn't want to have to listen to her."

"What happened up there?" Tony asked, subdued. He barely looked up.

"I got some information," I said quietly. "I don't know if it's going to be any use, but it fits things together a bit more. Hela is Loki's birth mother." That got everybody's attention but Wanda's. "She abandoned him to Laufey, but he didn't want a mixed-race kid. He was probably left to die when Odin found him.' I frowned. "Did you know that Loki, in terms of our lifespans, is still a teenager? Thor isn't that much older, so he'd be the equivalent of a few years older, early twenties, max, seeing as how they were raised as children together." This was discussed a bit. "She granted me a very small favor, seeing as how I visited Loki in his cell, so we're going to get to take our weapons with us. She thinks it might help us survive a little longer in the Grandmaster's games, so there's that, at least." Nobody had much to say about that. I think we were all still too stunned and saddened. Later, some sort of meal was brought in; we ate and drank mechanically, then the main overhead lights were dimmed. We took this as a signal to sleep; I sat between Steve's legs and leaned against his chest, his arms around my waist and my hands covering his.

I slept better than I'd expected to. When they came for us, I was sound asleep. They pulled us out of the cell, put collars around our necks, and herded us out of the hall. A chain was threaded through rings on the collars and we were pushed into a rough circle. Our weapons were tossed into the center of the circle, and the guards stood back. A bright light shone, cycling through the visible light spectrum once before returning to white, then it abruptly cut off. There was a painful pull on my cells, and I didn't register anything until I felt a firm surface beneath my feet again. I swayed, dizzy and nauseated as a less intense light turned on and a slight figure whipped the rope through the collar rings so that we were unconnected again. 

An unimpressed voice spoke. "Gift from Hela, the sitting queen of Asgard, to the Grandmaster. Race: human. Genders: two. Number in gift: eleven, eight male, three female. Weapons provided." A pause. "Do you prefer single or group combat?"

"Group," Steve spoke quickly.

"Noted," the voice sighed. A large, heavy door opened and brighter light flooded in. A large figure stood in the doorway.

"Pick up your weapons," a voice boomed, and I turned to the center, finding my knives and Nike again. They hadn't found my urumi on Asgard and I still wore it. There hadn't been a reason or opportunity to use it. "The Grandmaster, En Dwi Gast, welcomes you to the Battlerealm and the Contest of Champions. The opening matches have just begun. Your skills will be assessed and you will be put in brackets with other teams of similar level of ability. You will fight, although not to the death in this round. The rules and procedures will be made clear to you in the next few cycles. What you must know now is that those collars that you wear will kill you if you try to escape. Follow me." The figure turned and retreated; we followed him into the sunlight.


	6. The games begin

We blinked like moles in the bright sunlight as we were led across a large square by the large man, who seriously resembled a minotaur. Not kidding. He was taller than any of us, more massively muscled than even Steve (by about twice), and wore a helm from which two horns that were similar to Texas longhorns protruded. They looked like they might actually be attached to the man, but how did the helm get on him? It was a question I wasn't prepared to ask. His face wasn't visible. We were brought into a pavilion, where we stood one at a time and were scanned by some sort of machine. I listened as the scanner read out my height, weight, body fat percentage, bone density, brain mass, estimated strength and agility, and identified my skin mutation and vision enhancement. After this had been completed for each of us, he gathered us and reviewed the team.

"Overall, you have much strength in your group, especially these," he indicated Steve, Bucky, Sam, T'Challa, and Clint. "This one," Natasha "has strength and flexibility. Your fliers and this one," Tony, Jim, and Scott "are entirely dependent on their technology, which some will find easy to defeat. In addition, one is crippled without his gear. The other two females are weaker than the males. For the best chance to succeed in the games, my recommendation is to reduce the team to the first six, seven if the able one can fight without his suit of armor."

"No," T'Challa said, his voice deep and resonant. "It is all or none."

The man shrugged. "Your choice, one by which you will live or die. The rules of the games are these: in the first round, you will meet four opponents as a team. The opposition will almost certainly not equal your numbers, but the aggregate strength of each group will be approximately the same. The teams with the highest numbers of victories will advance to the second round, no more than half of the starting numbers. Victories are determined in this round when one team is clearly overwhelmed by the other, but the Grandmaster will make the final determination. Losers in this round will be detained to provide the work setting up the arena and cleaning for at least the duration of the competition." He waved his hand and a list of dates and times appeared in the air, red letters burning. "It is decided. You will fight first tomorrow morning, the last match of the day tomorrow afternoon, the first match after the midmeal the day after, and the third match on the third day. Rankings are posted before the lastmeal each day following the final match. A word of warning; the top scoring teams are served first and...as you humans would say, go to the head of the line at every opportunity. Challenge them only in the arena; punishment for fights outside are immediate removal from the games and your fate is at the whim of the Grandmaster. We are coming to the end of the day; daily showers will be provided for those species who use water to clean themselves, followed by the lastmeal. There is free time, during which combatants can mingle if they choose; teams also can use this time for strategy. During the day when you are not in the arena, you may make use of the training facilities. When you are not training or in the arena, your weapons will be placed into lockers. Only the owner and designated games officials will have access to the lockers, and tampering with the lockers and/or weapons will not be permitted. When you are in the showers, you will place your clothing in a hamper to be cleaned. It will be ready for you by the time you are done. Place the clothing into the hamper, shut the lid, and take the flexible band that will eject. Retain this during the shower, return it when you are done, and reclaim your clothing. When the lights go out, you are expected to sleep. You are to find an unoccupied pallet; they are not assigned. When you are not occupied in the arena, you may spend your time as you see fit; however, physical damage to other combatants is not permitted, nor is deliberate psychological intimidation." He led us over to a barn-like building and indicated rows of lockers. We found lockers here and there in reasonably close proximity in the same row, and racked our weapons. "You will be roused for firstmeal in the morning and you will have approximately half an hour in your reckoning of time to consume it. There will be half an hour following that for preparation, then you will be brought to the arena. Your collars will flash blue before you are scheduled for combat; retrieve your weapons and wait by your lockers and you will be guided to the arena. If you attempt to remove the collar or attempt an action that could be interpreted as an escape attempt, the collar will flash red and you will have a few moments to desist. If you do not, the collar will inject a drug into a major vein or artery which will kill you shortly. Depending on your physiology, it may or may not be painful. I advise you not to find out which it would be. If you advance to the next round, the new rules will be explained to all combatants then." He turned and left. We looked at each other, processing all the information.

A graceless buzz sounded, and all sorts of people emerged from buildings and began to stream toward the large building next to ours, which turned out to be the showers/hampers facility. There were no separate facilities for males and females. I couldn't tell the sexes apart in many of the species, while others looked like they'd stepped straight from mid-century SF novels: busty women with wide hips and two or three breasts and improbably muscular men. Out of politeness, I tried not to look too closely. Some of the players took this opportunity to have sex in the showers; some species it wasn't clear what they were doing, but with the more humanoid versions, it was pretty obvious. The sex appeared to be consensual, which was a huge relief. When it was our turn, my biggest desire was to get done as quickly as possible, and this was encouraged, it seemed, by a cleaner that was sprayed out at five minute intervals and used to clean hair and body. Some of the hairier or furrier species needed at least two cycles, but I made sure to be done in one. After a rinse, I walked through a tunnel that blasted warm air, and arrived at the hampers dried off. The band around my wrist buzzed to help me locate my hamper, and I scrambled into my suit. My teammates were equally swift, and we followed the others to what turned out to be a dining hall. We lined up and at a window, trays of food were ejected, one to a customer, different items depending apparently on physiology, quantity made proportional to each individual. At least they weren't going to starve us. Our trays contained items none of us were familiar with, in colors we weren't accustomed to eating, but the taste wasn't bad, if a bit bland, and there was a beverage that contained electrolytes, carbohydrates, and proteins. Interstellar Gatorade, apparently. There was also a tube with a straw that contained water; a stick and ball drawing of the water molecule on the side matched those on placards on walls that I'd noticed throughout the complex, evidently signalling refill stations. After the meal, most people returned to the courtyard, where there were benches and room to stand as well. We observed a small amount of fraternization, but most groups kept to themselves. There were a surprisingly large number of individuals; they also mostly kept to themselves. We stuck together, trying to be inconspicuous, observing and discussing, then it was time for bed. By the time it was our turn to enter the barn-like structure, all the spaces in the bunks were occupied and most of the pallets; there was just enough room by the doors for us to settle as a group. It had been a long day and I fell asleep quickly.

Another jarring buzz roused us in the morning; there was time to use the facilities and grooming products were made available. Following this was another weird-looking meal, then, as promised, about half an hour before a very small blue person arrived to take us to the arena.

I don't know exactly what I was expecting, but the arena looked quite a bit like the Colosseum. It was a huge ovoid structure with a sandy floor, open to the sky, and there were white grandstands on either side. A decidedly un-Classical barrier was formed between combatants and spectators by posts set at intervals in the ground; looking at them revealed that they would conduct charge, so I warned my teammates to avoid them unless they wanted to be electrocuted. One end of the oval was a huge, ornate gate through which we entered; at the other end was a small structure like a pavilion, more luxurious than the grandstands, that seemed like a good place for the Grandmaster to observe. We found a group waiting for us, four enormous buttercup yellow beings bulging with muscle and claws. And fangs, we saw, when they saw us approach. They had some form of staff weapons.

"Beginning the combat trials this day, let us show our respect to the Grandmaster for the sport we are about to enjoy," A voice boomed, like there were loudspeakers all over the arena. We saw our opponents turn toward the small pavilion on the other end and make some sort of gesture. Steve stepped forward and bowed, so the rest of us followed suit. "Returning for their fourth and final match, the undefeated Rawqintha take on a new team of humans." We could hear a buzz from the onlookers, who were too far away to see unless I messed with my vision, and I had better things to do than that. There was a loud chime, which apparently opened the combat. The yellow people immediately moved toward us, separating, and bringing up their staff weapons.

Sam, Tony, and Jim immediately took to the air; Tony and Jim had had to surrender their lethal projectiles for this round, but they still had some options as well as the force they could generate in their flight plus the blades I'd made for each of them. One of the Rawqintha devoted itself to our fliers; the other three engaged the rest of us. I was surprised and gratified to find that my skin literally bounced the energy bolts from the staff weapons off me; it still stung and burned, but I wasn't harmed. We fought in ever-changing groups, engaging and getting our hits in. Steve brought down the first one with a throw of his shield to the head; after that, the fighting got a lot more determined. The Rawqintha fought unarmed as well, one powerful blow knocking out T'Challa. The second Rawqintha was hamstrung by Scott. One of the two remaining flung Natasha into Bucky, Clint and Wanda, who were standing too close together. Natasha was knocked unconscious, and Wanda rolled her ankle when she was struck. The other used his staff weapon to knock Sam out of the air; he fell to the ground, one of his wings mangled and clutching his side.

It was imperative to get this match over before anybody else went down on our side. We converged on the remaining opponents, each of us getting our chances in combat. I kept one of them busy deflecting blows from Nike; Tony tricked the other into discharging his staff weapon at him but dodging the blast, which hit his teammate. Steve was closing in on the remaining Rawqintha when a loud sound like a gong shimmered through the arena.

"This competition is ended; the Grandmaster has deemed a 97.4% probability that the Rawqintha will be defeated before managing to remove any more humans from combat. Victory is assigned to the human team led by the individual known as Captain America. All combatants will stand down." After a moment, we relaxed and dropped our weapons to our sides. The gate opened and attendants of the games emerged; they all wore wide orange sashes to denote their status. They picked up the fallen combatants and signaled those of us still on our feet to follow. There was some cheering as we departed.

When the gates had closed behind us, we were told that our wounded would be healed and returned to us and that we could make repairs to our gear in the locker room. We went there, and I repaired Sam's wing and Tony his right elbow where a blow from a staff weapon had frozen the joint. Shortly before the harsh buzz signalling a meal, T'Challa, Natasha, Sam, and Wanda returned, physically healed, but a little shaken up. We ate lunch and repaired to a corner of the courtyard where we hydrated and took naps until we were summoned for our second match.

Our 2-0 opponents this time were a swarm of what looked like spiders with humanoid heads the size of Torburn. Their native language seemed to be composed of squeaks, grunts, and clicks that we had no hope of understanding or replicating. I felt very sorry for Steve, whose lack of fondness for spiders was well known on the team. They were covered in oily bristles that caused irritation on bare skin, gradually increasing to a very painful rash. I was grateful that Steve had designed my costume so that there was no bare skin showing and that I had a full-face mask. This battle took at least twice as long as our first, and we discovered that their legs ended in crescents of some hard material that could slice through our fabrics. At one point, they had Steve on the ground, swarmed, tearing at his suit and spreading that rash. I used Nike on them; evidently cutting off a few legs here and there was permitted because I wasn't stopped although I didn't like it. Gradually the tide began to turn; game attendants had stayed out on the sand with us and removed combatants that were either missing parts or damaged or too affected by the rash to continue. Tony took over as field leader and by the time we achieved our victory against our opponents, none of us were unscathed and we were all pretty freaked out. The Grandmaster declared a 92.3% prediction of victory for our team and we were glad to get out of there.

We all received medical treatment and had had just enough time to clean the oily substance off our weapons before the shower. This time I was tired enough to ignore the sex in the showers, and when I picked up my uniform, it had been repaired, an impressive feat. The buzzer chimed, and in the courtyard, lists of the teams in the competition began scrolling at several locations. We were 2-0, putting us firmly in the middle of the pack. It was a good result for us, and we were able to take our places in line based on those results.

Then we heard a familiar roar. "Rogers!" Our heads lifted almost as one and before we could do more than look around, Thor was wading through our fellow combatants to seize first Steve, then the rest of us in manly hugs. "My friends!"


	7. Elite combat

"How do you come to be here? I thought you safe on Earth," Thor said looking around at us. "And where is Peter the young one?"

"We left Pete on Earth to look after business," Tony said. Thor nodded.

"As to why we're here, well, it all started when Odin showed up on the streets of Seattle," Steve said, and we told him the story. Then Steve nudged me, and I smiled.

"Summon Mjolnir," I told him.

"Mjolnir was destroyed by the witch Hela," he said sadly. "I cannot."

I grinned at him in delight. "Try." He looked at me intently, then hope lit his face. "It's on Midgard, it'll probably take awhile to get here."

Not as long as I thought. About five minutes later, Thor turned, looking up at the sky, and I saw a small object hurtling toward us, straight to Thor. He caught it, smiling, then dropped it, swearing mightily. It was red hot. I picked it up and just sort of double-checked it to make sure it was ok. Seemed physically sound, and once again, the energies from the enchantment crawled over it. Thor's eyes locked onto it, and I held it up for him to see until it cooled.

"I thought never to see it again," he said, taking it the moment it was cool enough to do so. "How?"

I explained about how the shards of the great hammer just showed up one day, how I'd figured out to reform it, and how the enchantment had been renewed. "But my father is recovering?" he pressed, and I nodded.

"When we left, he was awake and aware. Apparently he needs a golden apple to complete his restoration, but frankly, I have my doubts about some goddess just giving over one of those things to us," I said. "Maybe she'll do it for you." Thor nodded.

"And what of my brother?"

"He told us about Ragnarok, which frankly, we can't seem to fit into this scenario, but is worrisome enough. He couldn't figure out what was wrong with Odin either, when we took him to visit. He was very agitated when he heard you hadn't returned, and when he learned the hammer was shattered..." I paused a moment. "He thought you were dead. Then this big sword he apparently forged fell into his cell and he used it to break out of the cell. I followed him outside where the Bifrost picked him up." I put my hand on his arm to quiet him; my hand was apparently too hot still and Thor winced. I dropped my hand. "The next we know, he sends Volstagg and Fandral to us for help after breaking them out of jail. We all went to Asgard and were captured. Did you know that Hela is Loki's birth mother?"

Thor flinched. "No, but somehow it does not surprise me. If Father knows, he did not see fit to tell me."

"He said to tell you that he was sorry," I said gently. "For what it's worth, I believe him." Thor looked at me consideringly.

"You didn't tell us you were barely legal," Tony said, breaking the moment.

"What?" Thor said warily.

"Hela told Emma that the both of you are practically infants," Tony said with a smirk. Thor's blustering and rationalizing made us all smile.

"So what can you tell us about this place?" Natasha asked.

"You know I went in search of Banner," he said after a hesitation. We nodded. "I found him. Sort of." Natasha's hands curled into fists and I moved to her side. "He is the big green one now, all the time. He has not reverted to Bruce Banner once since I found him." Natasha made a small sound. "I do not know if he can, anymore," he told her gently. "He does seem calmer, however. We have teamed up with another being for the purposes of this game. Would you like to see him?" Natasha nodded. He led her away.

"That's unexpected," Steve said.

"But it kind of makes sense," Tony said. "This environment is perfect for him, he can be a gladiator, let out all that aggression and hostility. And if he's not in perpetual conflict with Bruce, his rage might not be so driving."

"Poor Nat," Clint said sympathetically. As everyone gave opinions and talked over what we'd found out, I moved over to Bucky, who had a strained look on his face.

"She's chosen you," I murmured, and he looked at me, still a little bleak.

"I don't want to be second best," he muttered.

"She'd have wanted to see any of us if we'd have gone missing," I pointed out. "And yes, she used to be involved with Bruce, but she's moved on. With you. Frankly, I think you're better for her than Bruce was. She seems a lot happier with you."

"You think so?"

"I do."

We were interrupted by Tony and T'challa, who wandered up. "Can't help but think it might have been premature to tell him about the hammer," Tony said with no preamble. "Especially since he's admitted he's on a team with the Hulk and probably some other big muscle-bound dumbass."

I was crestfallen. "I didn't think of that. Shit. What happens if we have to meet them in the arena?" We all looked at each other.

"We will still have to fight to win," T'Challa said heavily.

It wasn't long before Natasha came back. She shook her head. "Lullabies don't work," was all she said. "That big guy from the first day caught up with Thor and is making him get reassessed since he's got his hammer back."

"Maybe we won't have to worry about meeting them in the arena, then," Tony said. "With that thing, he's probably got us all outclassed. We've never tried fighting him." The group began to discuss the ramifications, and I apologized for not thinking things through.

"Go talk to her," I whispered to Bucky, nudging him with my elbow. Unfortunately, I was on the side with the metal arm, and I winced. He cracked a hint of a smile, and when I gave him a little shove, worked his way over to her. Steve put his arm around me as he spoke to the group, and I watched the pair out of the corner of my eye. So I was able to see the moment when he put his arms around her to comfort her, and how she leaned into his strength, briefly. It was Natasha, after all, and I focused on the group as they rejoined us.

"Thor told me the rest of the story to tell you guys," Natasha said. "Some of it we know, that Hela visited Odin, he refused her request. Her magic overcame his, partly because her treachery was unexpected. Then she offered Thor the throne, subject to her having an overlord status, which he refused. In a fit of temper, she broke Mjolnir and bound him in chains for the Grandmaster. He told Sif to run, which she did; she's pregnant and they can't risk Hela getting her hands on the baby."

We murmured in surprise. It was another good news/bad news situation. It made it doubly imperative that we find a way off wherever this was and get back to Asgard. We had a rescue to mount and a usurper to de-throne. I hoped, cravenly, that Odin would find a way to return to Asgard on his own and at least take care of the witch part himself. And of course, Thor would want to rescue his friends. Good luck with that.

We were interrupted by the usual queuing for midmeal; then our third match would commence shortly after. When we went to pick up our weapons, the pike of my poleaxe was covered, as was most of the cutting surface of the hook and blade. When I inquired, the attendant said it was to minimize the risk of me actually killing our opponents, and there was the special instruction that I couldn't take out my urumi. The blades that I'd made for the rest of the team were similarly embargoed. This time, we were the first team out on the sands of the arena, the favorites.

I was appalled to see our opponents. They were about the size of a Keeshond, about forty of them, and they looked like adorable non-specific animals from a kid's cartoon, all vibrant fur coats over big bodies, large, shining eyes, short stumpy legs, tiny pointed ears, and waving tails. Tony clapped his hand on my shoulder. "Remember, you don't have to kill them," he advised. "They've got to be more dangerous than they look, otherwise they wouldn't be here."

He was right. I would just have to focus on the end result rather than wanting to pet them. As the match started, T'Challa was swarmed by the creatures, another species that we couldn't pronounce. They seemed to like him, then one of them bit his calf with impressively long, strong fangs, and it was game on. I used the covered edges of my weapon to stun or knock them unconscious. There was more blood shed on our side, but I had a hard time regretting it. It turned out to be not much of a fight once we each figured out how to handle the creatures. They had a surprisingly high vertical jump, and Clint could have lost an eye to a raking claw the first time we saw that maneuver.

By the time the Grandmaster declared our probability of victory at 98.3%, the crowd treated it as a foregone conclusion and we received only a smattering of applause. The match had gone too quickly and had been more unequal than expected. We were winning, but we weren't popular. I wondered if that would matter, down the road. The medic who patched us up said that the bites and scratches had a tendency to become infected quickly if not treated, but that we seemed less vulnerable to the infection. New knowledge for the Grandmaster. I wondered how much he knew about each species and how many he'd seen come and go in his arena.

Our standing in the rankings didn't rise much as a result of our victory, due, Thor said, when he caught up with us again, to the unequal combat. It was hard to argue with that, but we didn't feel that we would automatically advance to the next round. We needed a good showing in our final bout.

It was what we got. Six giant beings who looked a lot like the cave trolls from the Lord of the Rings movies, completely daunting, about twenty feet tall. The announcer referred to them as Vehkhans. Their skin was almost as tough as mine, so all of the protective edgings were taken off the weapons and I had all my usual weapons. The moment the crowd seemed to enjoy the most was when I was picked up by one of them and managed to be free by raking the open edge of one of my fans across the eye of the giant. He dropped me to clutch the orb, and I rolled when I hit the ground, just like Steve had taught me to avoid breaking my legs.

It was by far our longest battle as an expanded team in any realm, and we were all exhausted when the Grandmaster declared our probability of victory at 91.1% I didn't care about probabilities by then, I was just grateful to have come out on top. That victory propelled us into the top quartile.

By the end of the next day, all the matches were complete and the final list of teams and individuals for the next round were announced. For this round, individuals would still be paired against other single fighters and teams against teams. Thor's team had also advanced, as we'd expected. The only rule that changes was that victory could be achieved by any means, including death of combatants. This round was single elimination.

It was a grim evening. The only really good thing about it was that there were bunks for everybody remaining in the tournament. As we relaxed before bed, Tony came up to Steve and me.

"We have a problem," he announced quietly.

"Just one?" Steve asked in resignation.

"Ha ha. This one's big. It's Wanda. I think she's checking out."

"What?" Steve and I spoke in chorus.

"She was just wandering around in our last match, and I don't think she was all that focused on the one before that, the one with the cute animals. I wasn't sure until I watched replay." Tony called up a small window that replayed the bout from the official recordings. Anybody could pull up their own bouts, but nobody else's, in order to preserve the element of surprise for the arena. Sure enough, Wanda wandered around with a vacant look on her face. I'd seen her once, but thought she'd been stunned.

"I know seeing Vision murdered in front of her was a terrible thing," Steve said, "but we need her."

"Her sanity's been kind of an issue," Tony said diffidently, recalling the time when Vision took her to New York for intensive therapy.

"I'll go talk to her," I volunteered, and rounded up Natasha as well. It was a very unsatisfying conversation, mostly monosyllables on her side, but both Natasha and I though that she was hanging in. We approached the overseer, the bull-like humanoid who had oriented us the first day and found that all of the team had to report to the arena for each bout or forfeiture would occur; we couldn't drop a weak member to improve our chances. The time to do that had been on the first day. We'd just have to keep an eye out for her.

Our opponents this round were a race of blue people called the Abelra. It was a vicious fight, and rather protracted, but we won with an 88.2% probability; the overseer later said that the probabilities were getting lower because each test in the arena took more out of the combatants and the Grandmaster wanted to continue to give the audience a good show. 

The next round was a disaster. The stakes had been raised once again; to win, it wasn't enough to have the most statistically significant probability of winning; every member of the opposing team had to be down, either dead or significantly maimed, a response to the crowd's blood lust. When we got out on the sands of the arena, we found that additional hazards had been added in the form of stationary obstacles as well as ones that appeared and disappeared beneath the sands. Our opponents waited for us. One was a twelve foot, fat orange humanoid. The other two were Hulk and Thor, who looked stunned to see us.

When combat began, Hulk and Thor treated it like a training session, I could see immediately, but the orange person waded in gleefully with an enormous spiked mace. Our first casualty was Jim, caught in the air by the mace and driven to the ground. The attendants scuttled in to remove him and some of them were also injured by the mace. No time out was called; additional attendants hovered on the perimeter, waiting for the orange guy's attention to be diverted before removing Jim and the other attendants. There didn't seem to be a penalty assessed. Steve and Thor were engaging in a titanic hand-to hand battle, while Natasha, Tony Wanda, and Sam confronted the Hulk. Clint, Bucky, T'Challa, and Scott and I faced off against the orange guy. We were getting the worst of it, too. The guy was so big and fat that even when I cut him, I couldn't get to vital organs. It was really unnerving, too, because he alternated between weird, high-pitched giggling and bellows of pain when we scored on him.

You could feel our probability drop like a rock when the orange guy spun, hitting several of us at once. He roared in triumph; Clint was face down on the sand, barely moving, Scott's suit was malfunctioning uncontrollably, shifting his size at random. It suddenly shot him to Giant Man size and he accidentally stepped on T'Challa. Natasha was trying to hold a gash in her leg together, and I... went flying, hitting one of the moveable obstacles that shot up from the sand. It felt like half my torso was caved in, but I didn't dare look. The pain was overwhelming. I pried my mask off and spat some blood onto the sand. I looked up to see Hulk looming over me, face puzzled.

I put out my hand, pleading. "Please," I said, not knowing what I was asking for, then it hit me. He could take the pain away. My vision started to blur. "Make it quick," I begged. I had a moment of regret, of knowing that I was losing Steve for good this time, then Hulk straightened up. The world went to black.


	8. The highest price

I woke up feeling like utter hell. And then I remembered that I shouldn't be awake at all and my eyes popped open. I was staring at a white ceiling, naked under a blanket. I looked. The bruises were ungodly and there were healing lines where I'd actually been cut. It hurt to breathe, but at least I was breathing, my heart beating, my blood not spurting unpleasantly or dribbling anywhere. I took a moment to enjoy that; it's surprising how satisfying it was. Then I looked around and saw Steve on a bench to my right. He was still in his suit, gashed and bloodstained, his clasped hands resting in his lap and his lips moving, although I couldn't hear him say anything. He was crying.

"Steve," I husked. I cleared my throat a little and tried again. "Honey."

He turned his head and looked over, his handsome face drawn. "Emma," he breathed, then swiped at his cheeks, sinking to the floor by my cot and gingerly taking my hand to press to his cheek. I could feel the dampness and the bristles from his beard. "Sweetheart--" and he broke down, crying in earnest. I was so tired that it took a real strong act of will to move, but I rolled over on my side and petted his hair. The humidity level rose in the area around my cot. I couldn't begin to fathom how I was still alive and I was so grateful Steve seemed to be ok. At least, I hoped that it wasn't his blood on his suit.

Attracted by the activity, an attendant came over and waved a scanner like from Star Trek over me and jabbed a hypospray over my sternum. Son of a bitch, that hurt. Don't let anybody tell you that those damned things don't hurt. Alien technology isn't as awesome as you'd think. He/she/it (I couldn't tell with this species) grunted and told me I could go, but that I should get my next cycle of meals from the last window since it would have additional nutrients and boosters for my healing and that I needed to drink a lot of water. Then my uniform was dumped on the end of the bed, and I was turfed out from medical. I thought Steve was going to start crying again when he saw me as he helped me into my suit, but he tightened his jaw and helped me get dressed. We were just in time to get to the showers at the end of the allotted time, and I did feel marginally better. And I was able to reassure myself that Steve was ok; there were bruises on his magnificent body, but nothing that looked too bad, and that slight orange-reddish stain (like dilute methiolate) that showed up when you were speed-healed (like I was currently sporting all over my torso) was absent. As usual, somehow the suits were clean and fixed by the end of it, but then again they had more time than usual on this occasion. I started to loosen up as we walked over to pick up our meals. The team stood up when we walked over and they managed not to hug or pat me, which was really good. I sat down with my tray of food that came complete with an extra-huge electrolyte drink.

"So what happened?" I asked as I started to eat unenthusiastically. The special menu was blander than bland and had no flavor at all, only a slight texture.

"Hulk saw you go down and went to look. I don't know what you said to him but it seemed to piss him off. Put it on my account," Tony said, and Steve smiled slightly. "He hopped over to the orange bastard and started beating the hell out of him. While he was distracted, the arena attendants evacuated you. Once you were clear, Thor called the lightning and roasted the orange guy. Then he dropped the hammer and yelled out that he and Hulk wanted to join our team. That shut everybody up and we all waited around on the sand until the announcer said that the Grandmaster granted the request, the only rule was that weak members couldn't be dropped and that there wasn't anything about people joining the team. So we got the band all back together again."

"You were the longest in Medical," Natasha said briskly. "They weren't sure if they were going to be able to save you. Everybody else got fixed pretty quickly, and Jim actually has some sensation in his legs again."

Jim was grinning. "Even if it's only temporary, it's good to have," he said.

When the next day's schedule was posted after dinner, I was relieved to see that we were in the late afternoon. We sat around the courtyard, nobody saying much, until it was time for bed. I hung back and touched Hulk's arm to get his attention. "I'm sorry I asked you to do that," I said quietly. "I was in a lot of pain and I didn't see how I could make it. Thank you." Hulk looked down at me and made a sniffy/grumbly sound and a hint of a smile, then went into the sleeping barn. I still felt pretty wrecked, so I located Steve and sat on the edge of his bunk.

"Move over," I said, and his smile blossomed across his face. It seemed like a tradition that everybody slept one to a bunk; even the beings who had sex in the showers didn't sleep together, but we'd never been told we had to, so screw that. Steve tucked me under the light blanket and laid down so that my back was to the wall and he was between me and the room. I squirmed forward so that I cuddled around his back and draped my arm over his side.

It was the best night's sleep I'd had here, and I woke up feeling a lot more cheerful. I pried myself off him reluctantly, and we went through the morning routine. After breakfast, we just sat around in the courtyard, conserving our strength and resting for our next match. Then we had to get our weapons, and we were led out to the sands. Our opponents weren't waiting for us, so we must be the higher ranked team. But as we stood there, the crowd grew restless and no other team appeared. "Look," Sam said finally, and we all looked toward the far end of the oval arena. Someone was coming.

We got our first look at the Grandmaster when he stopped in front of us. Tall, around seven feet, he had blue skin, white hair, and reddish eyes that kind of creeped me out. It was also very, very creepy how fast he moved. He surveyed us all carefully, then his gaze returned to me.

"So this is the catalyst for the unexpected events in yesterday's game," he said, in a strangely normal voice. "Interesting. Ordinary looking, but...interesting. You have been touched by the Allfather's power." He walked slowly over to me, circling me. It took a lot of will power to let him go behind my back, but I felt that it was really important to not piss him off.

"It seems like the power was originally related to durability, strength, but for a lifeform, it has translated to years of life. You currently possess about seventy years of extra life that will be used when your years are over. Interesting. Given your injuries yesterday, I would have expected the extra lifespan to have tolled, but this is not the case." His eyes narrowed. "A new game. I give you three choices. You can keep your years to yourself, and outlive most of those you love." He showed his weird red stare to Steve. "Or I can take those years and use them to return you to a physical state of twenty years ago. This would happen." He motioned, and we were all shown what those years would bring.

A baby girl, with Steve, and later, a baby boy. I watched our daughter have her first crush on Peter, our son learning archery from Clint. Natasha gave her makeup lessons and Bucky taught both of them to shoot and maintain firearms. Our daughter, graduating from Oxford and later from Harvard, working for Tony. Our son joining the Avengers. Scenes flipped by. Then they ended.

"And the third choice," the Grandmaster said in satisfaction. A gesture, and two lifeless bodies appeared, hanging limply in the air. Vision, and a white-haired boy.

"That's Pietro, Wanda's twin," Steve muttered, his hand gripping mine so tightly it was painful.

"Your seventy years to one of them. Your choice would be restored, their memories and abilities intact." The Grandmaster's smile now was cruel. "Make your choice."

It wasn't an impossible choice; the first choice, keeping the years, was out. I didn't want to outlive my friends like that. But the remaining two choices.... if the Grandmaster had disemboweled me and I was watching my guts slither over the sand, it would have hurt less. I hadn't wanted kids, but the suddenly prospect of having kids with Steve...

I pointed. "That one."

I'd taken the Grandmaster by surprise. He nodded once, and the figure of Pietro fell to the sand and sat up, shaking his head. Wanda dropped down beside him to embrace him.

"Why did you choose him?" Sam asked, baffled. "I'd have bet my wings here that you'd have taken the kids."

I swiped at my cheeks and snorted back the snot. "Odin told me that the Grandmaster always keeps his word. His words were that these events would happen. Steve and I would have two children." I had to stop talking to keep myself from breaking down completely. I could barely feel the tears anymore, but my eyes hurt. 

"You guys didn't see?" Tony said impatiently. "Sure, they had the two kids, but Rogers quit the Avengers and went on the PR circuit, which you could see he hated. Barnes taught them to be killers, and Romanov was teaching the girl how to bait a honey trap. Barnes disappeared from the images about then and never came back. So did Romanov. The Hulk and Thor never showed up in any of the images. I turn into a raging drunk, apparently, with the girl having to oust me from the company to save it. Emma stops showing up after the girl takes over the company, then the boy, then Rogers. Everybody else stops appearing in the images prior to that. And none of us ended up looking happy except for Barton. So if there aren't the kids, then the rest of us might not end up in that future."

About halfway through Tony's explanation, Steve pulled me into a hug that was so tight it almost balanced out the pain inside, rocking me.

"But why not Vision?" Thor wanted to know.

I managed to turn my head enough to say, "Mindstone."

For once, Tony didn't have the interpretation. There was silence on the sand except for the sounds of Steve and me trying to keep it together. "The model of Vision didn't have the Mindstone. And the Grandmaster doesn't have it, Hela does, to give to Thanos. The reason Thor trusted Vision was because the power of the Mindstone would keep him from being like Ultron." I managed to explain.

"I'm a little disappointed that you picked that up," the Grandmaster said severely. "The return of the other one would have been most entertaining to watch. The rest of it is as you were told; the birth of those children would have led to a string of events that would have fractured the strongest of friendships, beginning with the retirement of your leader that would have left your band vulnerable to actions that went bad. The safest choice would have been for her to retain her gift of years. The selfless choice was to benefit the unstable teammate. I'm still getting the best of the arrangement with Hela, however."

"What was the rest of the arrangement?" Thor wanted to know, his anger practically palpable.

"What you would expect," the Grandmaster said dismissively. "I agreed to provide you with every opportunity to get yourself killed. In return, she has provided me with quite astonishing variables for my games. Satisfaction all around. Prepare yourself for your match." He surveyed us again; Steve was the only thing keeping me upright, he was as emotionally wrecked as I was, and who knew if Wanda and Pietro would be effective. Everybody else was disturbed at varying levels, but Hawkeye was the most level headed as he stepped over to check on the twins. If we got another fat orange bastard, we'd be toast. The Grandmaster gave us that cruel smile again and used that inhuman speed to return to the far end of the oval.

"Hey there," a voice behind us said, and I peer around Steve blearily to see a group of five standing behind us. "I'm Peter Quill, but you might know me better as Starlord." I dropped my head back on Steve's chest. "No? Dammit," he complained to his companions. "We save Xandar and the rest of the universe and still nobody recognizes me?"

"I am Gamora," the green woman said icily. She looked like a stone killer.

"Drax the Destroyer," the big bulky man proclaimed proudly. Whatever. Wait til he gets a load of Hulk, smashing.

"And I'm Rocket," a talking raccoon said in kind of a mean voice. I blinked to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. Yep, still a raccoon. Carrying a potted plant.

"I am Groot," the plant said helpfully.

Tony flipped up his mask. "We're the Avengers," he said briefly. Quill spread his hands, shaking his head. "We're from Earth," Tony said.

"Really?" Quill said, delighted. "Me too! I was kidnapped by Yondu when I was a kid, though. Haven't been back."

"Uh, yeah," Tony said. "Tony Stark. I'm Iron Man. That's Steve Rogers, Captain America, the lady is the Paladin, then there's Thor, Hulk, Ant-Man--" Scott waves--"War Machine, Jim Rhodes, Sam Wilson, the Falcon, Black Panther, King T'Challa, the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, and the Black Widow, Natasha Romanov. There's Hawkeye, Scarlet Witch, and her brother."

I see that Gamora and Natasha have recognized each other's ability, and everybody is sizing up everybody else. The other team looks a little daunted.

"You know, this has been a really sucky couple of days," I said, sniffing and loosening Steve's hold on me a little. "Do you mind if we ask for single combat?"

Tony put his hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him and he nodded. The other team conferred. "OK," Quill said cautiously. Tony made the request, and we waited. And waited.

Finally--"The Grandmaster has seen fit to grant your request," the announcer said.

Great. "Let's fuck with the Grandmaster a little," I muttered.

"That's a freebie," Steve murmured, and I managed a little smile. He helped me up, and we walked halfway over to the other team. The raccoon glared at us suspiciously.

"So what's the most fun kind of single combat you can come up with?" I asked, and Quill's face lit up.

"Dance off, bro!" he exclaimed. I snorted accidentally in amusement and choked on some snot.

We turned back to our team. "Somebody get out there and prepare to bust a move," I said, and dropped to the sand, Steve beside me. Jim, Thor, and Hulk came over to stand beside us. The others huddled, then T'Challa, Bucky, the twins, and Hawkeye joined us too. Natasha sat beside me.

Sam, Scott, and Tony stood in a line across from Quill, Gamora, and Drax. Quill jumped into the space between the two groups and started singing "Kung Fu Fighting." I sat up straight, jaw dropping. It was ridiculous, but he was giving it his all, dancing like nobody's business. It wasn't "So You Think You Can Dance," but damned if it wasn't fun. Drax had a little smile on his face, and my team started to smile.

Tony countered credibly with Van Halen's "Runaround." Then Drax was up with some song that I didn't know, probably interstellar, moving awkwardly to what might be a beat, and Scott broke out some break dancing moves to the unexpected choice of "I Wanna Be Sedated," by the Ramones. Then Gamora got into the grove of "Take Your Time (Do It Right)" with backing vocals by Quill, and Sam tore up the sand with a rousing rendition of "Rock the Boat." Quill shoved Rocket out, and he did his best with a kind of spastic version of "Blitzkreig Bop," and Natasha stood up, dusted the sand off her pants, and proceeded to boogie to "Don't Bring Me Down." Who knew she was an ELO fan? Then Rocket put Groot's pot down, and the little tree-like guy waved his branches to the Jackson 5's "ABC". It was adorable. Then, to my great surprise, Clint stepped over and sat crosslegged and proceeded to wave his arms around to "I'll Take You There." It was so funny that I started to laugh, and before long, everybody was laughing and singing along. After the last notes died away, Rocket picked up the pot again and Clint joined us. We waited. And waited. I dozed a little, leaning against Steve.

Finally, the announcer spoke. "The Grandmaster is unable to determine who won the match," the voice said, surly. "The combatants are dismissed." We picked ourselves up smartly and headed for the gate.

"I think you made the right choice," Steve said to me, his voice low. "I didn't see all of what you and Tony saw, but I saw Bucky looking unhappy and disappearing, everybody getting progressively grimmer. Including you; I've never seen you look so sad." I looked at him, startled. I hadn't noticed me. "It wasn't a good future. Even the kids didn't look happy." He let out a deep breath. "I think that some prices are too high to pay."

"I was afraid..." I started, then couldn't finish.

"I would have loved to have kids with you," he said simply. "But not those two." We reached the gates in silence. But not alone.


	9. The final battle

Our battle had taken longer than I'd thought, what with all the Grandmaster hi jinx. We were in time for the daily shower, then dinner. Rankings had been displayed rather than the combat order for the next day; I was surprised that we hadn't dropped in the rankings, but the minotaur overseer said that we'd managed to achieve victory over the Grandmaster. That should have bumped us up some, then, but I was too drained to argue. We had a quiet dinner, then found a corner in the courtyard to relax in. When I got up to use the bathroom, I found Pietro waiting outside when I was done.

"I wanted to thank you for what you did," he said with no preamble.

"It was the best choice," I said.

"Maybe, but it means a lot. Barton caught me up, the big events, anyway. I can help Wanda."

"I hope so. Her mental state is sometimes fragile. I worry about her."

"The things she sees in peoples' heads bother her," he affirmed.

"Well, watch your back," I warned. "The Grandmaster may or may not harbor grudges. He may think that giving you back and taking you away again is a fun twist." We walked along in silence a bit. "So what's your codename?"

His grin flicked on. He was a good-looking kid, seemed nice. Maybe Peter could benefit from a role model closer in age than the rest of us. "Quicksilver." He ruffled my hair. "Remember, I came up with it first." He startled me into a laugh. We walked back into the courtyard and I curled up by Steve again.

"Where did you get power from the Allfather?" Thor asked abruptly once.

"Must have been while Mjolnir was being enchanted," I said. "There was a bolt of energy that broke off and hit me. It tingled a bit, but didn't hurt or anything."

"Really," Steve said flatly. "Funny how that hasn't come up before now."

I shrugged a little. "It didn't electrocute me or anything. Didn't even hurt." Steve just sighed and snuggled me to him. I felt like a half-melted marshmallow.

We shared a bunk again later that evening. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, brushing my cheek with his fingers as we lay face to face.

"I believe you when you say you're ok with the choice I made, but I wonder if you'll still feel that way after some time has passed and you've thought about it more," I blurted out. "And I didn't even ask you, and it was important to you too."

"Well, first of all, it was your choice to make," he said slowly. "It was your years in question. And ultimately, the decision to bear children is the woman's. But the kids didn't seem happy as they grew up, and we don't know what happened to the boy, but my guess is that he died, and I think he quit the Avengers, maybe went bad. There was a picture in the girl's office with him, a family portrait that had his face crossed out." I hadn't seen that. "I know that someday I'll have to give up being the field leader. The serum doesn't prevent me from aging, it just made me the best that I could be. I don't want to give that up before I have to, and it looked like you were also doing PR, unmasked, so somewhere along the line your secret identity was blown and you were being trotted out by Promotions." I made a face and he smiled a little. "The reasons I didn't want to have kids before haven't changed. They'd still have been targets for people who want to hurt me. Us. They wouldn't have had the freedoms other kids have. I'd worry about being too absentee." His voice quavered a little. "And it seemed to me that no matter how much we loved them that we couldn't make them happy." He swallowed. "Yes, I would have loved to have had kids with you. Some things aren't meant to be, is all. But our friends are family too, even the irritating ones like Tony. The Avengers will still continue to attract heroes. I only have to look as far as Peter with you to understand that we can still have children even if they're not genetically related to us." He kissed me, lightly. "I think we can all work for a happier future than the one that was shown to us all. Clint said that Pietro helped Wanda stay on track during that dustup with Ultron. It was the right choice to make. Now, get some rest. Something tells me that we're not going to get another chance to have a dance off here." He chuckled. "That was hilarious." I turned over and he cuddled up to me, surrounding me with relaxing, reassuring warmth.

I felt a lot better when I woke up the next morning, which was good, because as we were lining up for breakfast, the combat order was displayed. It was a lot different than it had been.

It called for one big battle, winner takes all, to be held in the evening. Two sides, humanoids against ...well, whatever didn't look humanoid. To the death. The rules were simple: you couldn't leave a being injured; if you hurt them enough to take them out of combat, you had to kill them. After all of one side was annihilated, the living remainder of the winners would be allowed to choose their destinations.

"Wow. Lucky we'll be on the same side," Quill said, his team sitting next to ours.

"At least it will be over soon, one way or another," Gamora said darkly. She must be fun at parties.

"At least you got to be Kevin Bacon," Quill ribbed her.

"That is true, " she conceded. With a small smile.

"Footloose," Quill said to me, seeing how puzzled I was. I grinned.

"Yeah, aside from it being a matter of life or death rather than a moral issue, exactly like that," I agreed, and Quill laughed.

"Where will you go after the battle is over?" Drax asked.

"Asgard," Thor said, looking around at all of us and receiving encouraging nods in return. "A usurper has taken my father's throne, we need to find my wife, and we need to regain an Infinity stone."

"You lost your wife?" Rocket cracked. "Why didn't you just leave her home?" All four of us females looked at him in varying degrees of disdain and/or disgust. "What?" Quill just shook his head.

"Infinity stones, though. There's a dude looking for them, wants to own the whole collection, I guess," he said, getting our immediate attention.

"Who?" Thor said tensely.

"Thanos. He's this guy--"

"We know of him," Thor said tersely. "The one who sits on the throne of Asgard has the Mind Stone and intends to deliver it to Thanos."

Quill cursed. We all looked at Steve, who just shook his head as he looked at us and smiled. "Ronan had an Infinity stone from Thanos but double-crossed him." He puffed up a bit. "Yeah, we stopped him, and gave the stone to Nova Prime on Xandar for safekeeping." He paused to reflect. "There was a lot of double-crossing on that whole...thing." We looked around at each other.

"Uh...you want to expand on that?" Tony invited, rather tersely. Best to find out if we'd be betrayed by these guys sooner rather than later.

"Well, Yondu, he's the guy who kidnapped me when I was a kid, sent me out to find this orb. I recovered it and went to sell it instead, which is when I ran into these three." He gestured at Groot, Rocket, and Gamora.

"I am Groot," the little plant guy squeaked.

"I know they have nice fountains on Xandar, but you just can't go around drinking out of them," Rocket argued. "They're not sanitary." In response to our baffled looks, Quill just shook his head.

"Groot has a vocabulary of only four words, but apparently they mean a lot."

"What's the other word?" Wanda wanted to know.

"Once, he said 'We are Groot,'" Gamora said, unexpectedly tender.

"So Rocket and Groot wanted to turn me in for the bounty on me," Quill said, getting back to the explanation. "And Gamora wanted to kill me to retrieve the orb for her father. Thanos."

"He is not my father," she flared up. "He killed my family and...remade me into his assassin. And I wasn't going to give it to him. I was going to get it to the Collector, where it would be safe. And YOU screwed that up."

Natasha was regarding Gamora with interest. It was...interesting how their lives paralleled, at least superficially. "Who's the Collector?" Steve asked.

"He's one of the Elders, like the Grandmaster," Quill said. "Instead of games, he hoards. You should have seen his place. He's got a zoo in there as well as stuff."

"My father sent the aether to him as a precaution," Thor said grimly. "What happened?"

"He opened the orb and his assistant, who apparently had some labor grievances with him, grabbed it and it went off. We got it contained again in the orb, but Ronan stole it and put it into his warhammer." He looked at Thor sideways. "His hammer had a lot longer handle than yours."

To my surprise, Thor flushed. "My brother tricked the dwarves who were forging it and it has a shorter handle than most. But I like it. It's easy to use." I couldn't help it, I started to laugh. It was such a Loki thing to do. Thor rolled his eyes at me.

"Um... so Ronan decided to keep the stone and all that power for himself rather than hand it over to Thanos. Then we fought him and got a hold of the stone ourselves, which we managed to use to kill him. He was a religious psycho kind of guy,' Quill assured us. "So we gave it to Nova Prime. Everybody's happy."

"Except Thanos," Steve said slowly.

Quill spread his hands. "It was the safest place we could think of."

"There are all these places I've never heard of," Tony complained. "We need an atlas."

"I'd settle for a Wikipedia entry," Steve said. We stared at him, then laughed. We don't give him enough credit for adjusting to the 21st century.

"Well, that's something else to worry about, on a different day. Right now we have to focus on getting through our battle royal, all of us," I said, pushing away my tray. Steve squeezed my hand. I grinned at him, then took a drink of water.

"We should join their team," I heard Quill say to Gamora. "See how they look at each other? Why don't you ever look at me like?"

"Because I am not brain damaged," Gamora said tartly. I did a spit take, and everybody began laughing as I mopped Steve off.

"That must be the reason she settled for Rogers," Tony said, cackling. "Harrington, I thought you were supposed to be a genius." Laughing, I flipped him off, which made Quill laugh. 

We spent the rest of the day lazing around, we had lunch, then dinner, and finally it was time to suit up. While we were waiting with our weapons to be summoned, I stretched the collar of my outfit slightly. "Honey, when we get back, will you design something different for me?" I asked. "I'm kinda tired of this look." He had me turn around and began braiding my hair, a French braid, close to the head, and tucked the tail up under it.

"So nobody can grab your hair and damage your spine by jerking you around," he said, patting it into place. He shot Tony a look as Tony snickered. "Whatever you want, sweetheart," he said to me, massaging the back of my neck slightly. I let out a contented sigh. Steve has totally ruined me for other men. We walked out onto the sand hand in hand.

We joined a line of humanoids to the left and watched as the non-humanoids formed a line across the arena. There were a lot of them, all shapes and sizes. I recognized the cute fluffy creatures we'd fought, now significantly reduced in number, and felt a pang. No matter who won or lost the final fight, the floor of the arena was going to be washed in death, and for what? Some bored old guy.

The announcer announced teams and individuals one last time, then the buzzer for the start of combat sounded. The lines moved toward each other at a walk, but the pace increased until we were moving almost at a run when the lines clashed for the first time.

Interestingly, it wasn't nonstop combat; it ebbed and flowed and there were times when the action all seemed farther down the line and we could rest for a moment. Never for long, though. Steve started to laugh as he saw me cutting and stabbing at something that looked like a mobile patch of moss.

"Emma, we have to get married," he said. "You're the perfect woman."

I finished cutting the carpet to ribbons (and the little spikes it could launch) and pushed back some hair that had become unbraided. "I don't think there's an officiant here, honey," I pointed out, then braced myself for the incoming, which looked a lot like an enormous black slug.

"Did you really just ask her to marry you, Rogers?" an incredulous Tony said, landing by us. "Because that is probably the worst timing in the history of ever. Where's the candles, the wine, the romance?" I swung Nike with all my force at the interstellar slug. It exploded, and I stood there, shocked, dripping slug goo.

"Ew, he said. "You could have just put out a saucer of beer and let it drown," he told me, then took off to help Jim and Sam, who were attacking something that looked a lot like the monolith from "2001: A Space Odyssey."

I started to shake my hands and arms free of the stuff, trying not to think about it too much, so grateful for the mask covering my face. Bucky gave me a handkerchief, then moved away.

"I hate to agree with Stark, but that was pretty lame," I heard him muttering to Steve.

"Well, she didn't say no," Steve murmured back as I wrung out the handkerchief.

Then they had to go back to work as some...thing I couldn't even describe rolled up. Something else got my attention by firing darts at me and I turned in time to see it move on, finding victims in Steve and Bucky. The darts seemed to have barbed heads, judging from the damage caused by removal, and I interposed myself between it and Steve, who had taken the brunt of the attack and was down on the sand. I whipped out the urumi for the first time and started to flay the creature, which tried to get away. Bile rose in my throat, but this was a fight to the death, and I needed to make sure that it was this creature who died rather than one of my team. Specifically, Steve. My attention was diverted as the Grandmaster began to play with the weather conditions, whipping all the combatants with cold driving rain. I wasn't that sad to see it; it helped wash off the slug goo and cool me down, but some of the humanoids and non-humanoids were adversely affected. Then the rain gave way to stinging hail, followed by hard hot winds.

Gradually the lines contracted as combatants fell and the fighting grew more vicious. Nobody was unscathed; I was battered by what looked like a land octopus, kind of, that could hit hard and constrict with its tentacles. I was joined by Natasha and Steve in finishing it off. When I backed away from the carcass, I realize that noise in the arena was dying away.

Our side had won.

I leaned on my poleaxe as it sank in. What's more, all my team were still alive, although some were in worse shape than others. Steve and Bucky had almost finished healing the wounds caused by the dart creature, thanks to their enhancements, but Tony was limping heavily and Thor was bleeding from dozens of cuts. Then the sound of the gong shimmered, and I straightened up.

"The final round has been concluded. The humanoid side is declared the victors," the announcer decreed, and I kept my eyes on my friends rather than the bodies sprawled on the sands. "Come forward to claim your prize." We joined the queue, for the last time in this place.

"Where are we going?" Jim said wearily.

"Asgard," Thor said immediately. "Is that acceptable?" he asked after a minute.

"Anywhere I can get a bath," I muttered. There was some chuckling, but we agreed on our destination. Thor said he had a place in mind where we could clean up and recover before launching our next op. Ahead of us, I could hear Quill's team discussing what they'd do next. "Something good? Something bad?" Gamora laughed.

"How about something profitable?" Rocket groused.

"I am Groot," the plantling declared.

"Money might not buy happiness, but it can buy things that make you happy, and that's pretty much the same thing," Rocket said, and the argument started up again. I smiled, looking up at the stars that had come out unnoticed while we were fighting. It was weird to see constellations I didn't recognize, but they were pretty nonetheless. And I was alive to enjoy them.

"Well, maybe we'll run into each other again," I heard Quill say, and I turned around to see him addressing us. "It seems to be a pretty small universe, all things considered." Steve put out his hand.

"There are still Infinity stones to deal with," he said as they shook. "We'll see you around."

Finally, we were up. I was a little surprised when Hulk stepped up, but when the Grandmaster announced his destination to a sparsely settled planet with significant hazards, I understood. He even allowed us to say goodbye. All Natasha said was "Be happy."

"Will all remaining members of your team be going to the same place?" the Grandmaster asked, and we nodded. Thor told him precisely where we wanted to go, and just before that ripping sensation dislocated us again, the Grandmaster looked at me with those creepy red eyes and smiled disturbingly. I hoped it didn't mean that I'd be seeing him again. Then the black returned. And when I could see once more, we were standing in a cave. It was clammy and dark. I sighed. It didn't look like I'd be getting my bath any time soon.


	10. The lap of luxury

"It's not much farther," Thor said wearily, and we followed him as he walked further into the cave, a small amount of light provided by a very productive lichen. Gradually it seemed to get warmer, and with one final turning, we arrived in a cavern that smelled sulfurous. We stopped; there wasn't any light in here until Thor uncovered a lantern. Then he passed out other lanterns to each of us, and we were able to look around. The sulfur smell came from hot springs. I almost cried, I was so grateful to see them.

"Wash off in the spring there," Thor directed, "then soak in the hot pools. They have slightly different temperatures, the hottest ones are in the center and are too hot to get in. There are clean clothes over here, and supplies." He directed our attention with his lantern. I marched over, found the smallest sizes (which would still probably be too big, but at least they were clean), towels, and soap. There weren't separate facilities for men and women, but we'd gotten accustomed to this at the Grandmaster's facility. I I peeled off my suit and dropped it into the water to wash first; there was still slug goo, sand, and who knows what else on it. Then I washed myself; the water was pretty cold, so I was grateful for the hot pools waiting for me. I found one that was not as hot as initially I'd like, because I knew I'd warm up fast and I just wanted a little time to unwind and relax without having to move around much. Steve joined me shortly, and without comment, massaged the tension out of my back and shoulders and hands; he kept his tension in his shoulders, arms, and hands (and his butt and thighs as well, but I didn't feel it was appropriate to relax those parts), so I focused my attention there, finishing with a kiss to his shoulder and snuggling up. When I was in danger of falling asleep, I got out, dried off and dressed.

Yep, the clothing was huge. "You ought to stock the smaller sizes," I said to Thor, smiling.

"Why?" he asked, smiling back. "We do not allow infants to join the guard."

I put my hand over my heart. "A hit!" I chuckled as I turned away to examine the food situation. Now that all the excitement was over, I was ravenous. What I found was things with long storage life but not much flavor; still, Sam said they were better than some of the MREs he'd had. We boiled some water for drinking since I could see some bacteria in the water; there was a small stone hearth in the corner with a heating element so we didn't have to worry about having a fire detected. We ate quietly and went to sleep early.

I felt a lot better the next morning. Funny how knowing you'll be fighting for your life every day engenders stress. "So what's the plan?" Steve asked Thor during breakfast.

"I am not certain," Thor admitted. "I must find Sif, and we need information about what is happening in the citadel."

"Do you know where Sif is likely to be?" Bucky asked.

"I have a few ideas," Thor said. "Two of the areas are not far from here. I will go there and see if she has taken shelter."

"Want some company?" Steve offered, but Thor shook his head.

"I can travel faster alone," he said, which was true. Plus, I suspected, there was the whole reunion thing. "Stay here and recover," he instructed us. "There is a lighting system that is disconnected when no one is here, but Stark should be able to fix that. This is a guard outpost in case of invasion, so I do not think it will be visited. However, if anyone should appear, there is a fissure in the wall--" he pointed it out "--that is too small for adult Asgardians to fit through. Beyond it lies another cavern. You can wait them out there." He gripped his hammer tightly and with a swirl of his red cape, he was gone.

"If there's unrest in the kingdom, maybe we'd better check out our bolt hole," Jim said, and we put away our bedrolls and arranged things so that what we'd taken wasn't obvious. The cave beyond the fissure was pretty nice, for a cave; there was even a place by the far wall where the stream from the main cavern rushed through. The floor was rock, but there were no signs of any cave-dwelling creatures. Given that if a patrol arrived, they might stay awhile, we made a cache of bedrolls, lanterns, food, and other necessities where it couldn't be seen from the fissure. We also stored the weapons we weren't wearing there for safekeeping, then did a little light exploring. It appeared to be an extensive cave system, so we didn't go too far. We also familiarized ourselves with the area outside our immediate cavern. Then Tony found the lighting system Thor had described and a disconnected sentry alarm that would produce a warning tone in the main cavern if something passed in front of the sensor and hooked it all back up. It would save us the trouble of posting a sentry and give us more time to evacuate the main cavern if necessary. You never knew; Hela might be paranoid and sending out patrols if she was concerned about the stability of her reign. It went without saying that we would be keeping the cavern tidy, so that we could scramble for the bolt hole at a moment's notice and not have to worry about leaving evidence that it was occupied behind.

We were all still fairly fatigued despite the good night's rest, so we took it easy most of the day, wary for the alarm tone. We lounged around in the hot pools after dinner. Thor had not returned by the time we were ready for sleep, so we decided to sleep in the bolt hole for added security.

We woke up sometime in the night when the warning tone sounded. I could hear Tony, who was closest to the fissure, move over quietly. Then lights came on in the main cavern, and a little light fell on him; he moved into the shadows. "Friends!" Thor called out, and I relaxed. We all got up and filed out into the light. Sif was with him; her pregnancy just beginning to show. He looked at us in approval as we filed into the cavern. "They are sending out two-man patrols," he told us. "This is still the safest place to be; not everyone knows about it and it provides shelter and sustenance. It is good that you have taken refuge, however. We can take care of any intruders here, but it is best to do it on our terms. Sif and I will stay in another chamber, since I can no longer fit into that one." He eyed our bolt hole.

Yawning, I went over to Sif and touched her arm. "It's good to see you again. Let us know if you need anything--" and by that I meant the other women and myself "--and we'll catch up later." She smiled back.

"I am weary," she admitted, and with that, Thor picked up a couple of bedrolls and a lantern and they left. We went back to sleep.

The next morning, Sif and Thor joined us for breakfast and to determine what to do next. Sif had been in hiding in an old, small hunting lodge that wasn't even on any newer maps, and had no more new information than we did. In order to plan, we needed current data.

"What are you doing here? You are not members of the guard," a young, stern voice said. What? What happened to the sentry buzzer? I looked up to see two big young men in the doorway to the cave. It looked like a patrol had found us. 

Thor unfurled from the floor. "Uh-oh," one of them whispered, and turned to flee. There was the zing of a bowstring and the kid in retreat tripped and went down clutching his calf.

"You, stay," Thor commanded the other kid, who looked rooted to the spot in fear. Clint went with Thor to the other boy to retrieve his arrow, and Thor hauled him to his feet and back into the cavern. "How did you get here?" he asked, and the uninjured kid pointed out a different entrance to the cave system. Son of a ....gun.

"Well, here's our source of information," I noted, and Thor turned toward them.


	11. Have fun stormin' the castle

Thor dragged both guards over. "Tell me what your orders are," he commanded.

The uninjured man spoke up. "We are to sweep this area for Lady Sif," he said, glancing over at her. Thor scowled.

"And what are you to do once your sweep is complete?

"Return to the citadel and report."

"Report to whom?"

"Loki, who has been given charge of the guard by Hela."

"My brother, in charge of the guard?" Thor said incredulously. The guard shrugged.

"It is the wish of Hela," he said.

"If we can get word to Loki, we can get the best information," I said in a low voice. Steve moved our group between the entrance and the captured guards.

"Ok, but how do we do that? How do we even know Loki is trustworthy? He could have had another change of heart since we were all sent to the Grandmaster," he said.

"We have to take a leap," I said. "Look, if we can get an unintercepted message to him, I can meet with him alone and see where his loyalty really lies," I offer. "I think that regardless of anything else, he's still my friend."

"If this guard reports directly to Loki, I can make him deliver a specific message," Wanda offered, and I smiled.

"Where would you meet him?" Steve asked, and Thor spoke up.

"I can take her to the hunting lodge where Sif was staying. Loki also knows of it; we found it when we were hunting together as youths. It may be why he has sent guards to search." He turned to me. "What message would you send?"

"Wanda, can you make the guard sing instead of speak a message?" I said, smiling craftily. She nodded, looking interested.

"We watched a lot of musicals. He enjoys them," I said to the mystified group. Thor looked baffled.

"I cannot imagine my brother finding entertainment in that," he said and I shrugged a shoulder, trying to remember his favorite. We'd watched the ones in his DVD collection a couple times each. The Phantom of the Opera movie with Gerard Butler and Emmy Rossum, On the Town, Singing in the Rain, High Society...Chicago. He'd very much enjoyed that movie; we'd watched it together a few times and security had reported he'd seen it several times on his own. 

"A bit of a song from Chicago. He liked that one, and I think he'd connect it with me." I leaned over. "Hey, kid--" I waved and got the attention of the two guards.

"Once you make your report and tell him that Sif is not here, will other patrols come or will they move on?"

The braver one spoke. "In that case, the search would shift to another area. But we have found her."

"You will forget you have seen her," Thor growled.

"We cannot," the guard defended himself. "Our loyalty is to the ruler of Asgard." Who is not you, he might have added.

"I can make them forget," Wanda murmured. And so the plot was hatched; the guards were taken outside, their memory altered out of view of any of us to include just the impression of habitation in the lodge, and the senior of the pair, if he found himself alone with Loki, would deliver our message. Three lines from the toe-tapping number "I Can't Do It Alone"--

Now, you've seen me goin' through it  
You may think there's nothin' to it  
But I simply cannot do it alone!

Then, if Loki asked, he would give the coordinates to the hunting lodge. If Loki was not alone, the guard was to keep alert and deliver the message at the earliest opportunity. Wanda cleverly included a command that would make the man forget what he had just said after he delivered the message, so no one would be able to make him repeat it. We had a timeline of when the report was to be made and estimated how long it might take Loki to respond. If he did. It was a risk; he could send a patrol instead of coming himself. It was as safe a plan as we could devise.

The next day I went camping. I wouldn't be staying at the hunting lodge itself in case Loki behaved in a way I didn't want to believe. I took a bedroll with the very comfortable pad, rations, a lantern, a container of water, Bucky, and Thor. Thor came along for obvious familial reasons, and Bucky in case we needed...cleanup.

We didn't have long to wait. The day after we got settled in the woods around the lodge, we heard the whine of transportation, and moved carefully to a prearranged vantage point overlooking the lodge. The craft settled and Loki hopped out. He was alone; we moved around to the back of the lodge and entered from the rear in case there were any recording devices active on the craft.

Loki was looking under a bed when we found him. "Hey," I said, and he got to his feet quickly and crossed the room to hug me.

"I couldn't believe your clever message," he said. "How?"

"We will explain, brother," Thor said from the doorway, and Loki's head swiveled. After a moment, he crossed the room slowly and extended his arm. After another moment, Thor clasped his arm and pulled him into a brotherly, one-armed hug. It was nice.

"Well, let's get to talking," I said briskly, and we went downstairs. We didn't light a fire or anything that might attract attention. We were pushed for time as well; Hela had allowed Loki to clear a brief period of time for this trip and we didn't dare do anything that would arouse suspicion.

Thor summarized our experiences in the arena quickly, describing how we came to be returned to Asgard, and Loki explained Hela's plans as well. She wanted Sif, or, more accurately, the fetus that Sif was carrying. Dead or alive, it didn't matter...although dead was the most convenient since a child of Thor's would provide a rallying point for rebellion. "Are all of you camping in the woods?" he asked.

"No," said Thor. "The others are staying in the outpost in the hot water caverns."

"You must warn them, brother," Loki said instantly. "When I arranged to come down here, I told Hela that the guard had the impression that someone had been living here, and she dispatched a patrol to check the few other structures in this area while I came here."

Bucky immediately got on the communication device we'd found, but no one was answering. Loki jumped to his feet, pulling on Thor. "We must go now." We all ran for the door.

Another vehicle was at the cavern entrance. We could hear the fighting from outside and drew our weapons as we ran in. Loki snapped the neck of the first guard we encountered, tossing the body aside almost without breaking stride. In the main cavern, several guardsmen were down. It looked like the fight was getting mopped up. I saw Steve, standing between a guardsman and Sif, down on the floor, attended by Sam. Thor bellowed with rage and took care of the guardsman with one blow of Mjolnir to the head. There wasn't much left afterward. Sif was curled in on herself, but her sword was still clenched in her hand. Thor pried it out gently and held her hand as Sam explained that he thought she might miscarry as a result of a couple of savage blows she'd taken to her lower abdomen.

Bucky had one of the few remaining guardsmen in an interrogation situation, which was essentially him beating the information out of the guy. It seemed to be working fine. I collected the others for a brief explanation. "What's our next step?" Natasha asked.

"We need to get Sif to medical care," Sam said, leaving Thor and Sif alone together. "I'm almost positive she's miscarrying."

"Our options are few," Loki said quietly. "I doubt that we can find someone to treat her, not here. Our population is found mostly in the cities."

"We will storm the citadel," Thor snarled. "We will depose the pretender and I will kill her myself." I realized, as I looked at him, that I'd never really seen Thor mad. But here he was, almost Hulk-like in his rage, and I started to uneasily review what I knew about Norse berserkers. (Not much.)

Thor wouldn't be talked down. The lack of the returning guards would probably be a tipoff to Hela that something was up, so we had to move fast. We formed a plan. Our plan kind of sucked, but it was the only one we had. We would fly close to the citadel, land the craft, and sneak inside using Thor and Loki's knowledge of the area from their childhoods. From there, we would disperse to a few areas where we had the best chance of ambushing Hela. We agreed not to pussyfoot around but to kill her immediately; she was too dangerous to live. Meanwhile, a small group would get Sif to a healer. I knew the approach to the healing rooms pretty well and Loki and Thor both had alternative routes from when they would try to evade their parents after youthful accidents. 

We assigned groups: Jim, Sam, and I would get Sif to help. The others formed three groups to hunt Hela. Each group started to plan its op. Sif drew us a floorplan of the area around the healing rooms, and we decided to go to a small chamber nearby; it was used as a stillroom and was usually empty. If there were healers there, so much the better, but otherwise, I would go find one. When Jim and Sam got up to start preparations for our infiltration, I stayed with Sif.

"I'm sorry," I told her. "I feel like this is my fault. It was my idea to contact Loki."

"It is not," she said. "And as much as I am reluctant to say it, it does not appear to be Loki's fault either. We all agreed that this was the best plan. The one who is responsible is the guard who did this. And Hela, for ordering it." She put her hand on her abdomen. "I do not want to lose the baby," she whispered. Her hand squeezed mine. "I know Thor married me so that he could hand over a child to his father as the heir," she whispered. "If I cannot provide him with a child, I worry that... It is difficult for our kind to have children. He may look elsewhere to father children."

"He does that to you, cut off his dick," I whispered back. "But I don't think he will. And this isn't anything you did to cause it. It doesn't mean that you couldn't become pregnant again. " I stroked hair off her face with my free hand. She moaned a little. I did what I could to soothe her, and soon Thor came over to pick her up and take her to the larger vehicle. Loki left, slightly ahead of us. He was to trigger a mechanical failure in order to take attention away from our craft landing without the guardsmen.

Thor set down the craft at the edge of the field and we crept from the vehicle toward the perimeter of the the citadel, separating as we went in order to achieve our missions. I went ahead; Jim's powered suit enabled him to carry Sif without strain, and Sam was ready to defend them. I made it to the stillroom without encountering anybody, then signaled the rest of the team. Ok. Step one accomplished. Now I had to find somebody to look after Sif. I eased out into the corridor and began the search; it had to be someone alone. I left Nike with the guys as I didn't want to accidentally make noise bumping into something and alerting the wrong people. It took a good twenty minutes before I found a target; he'd been in the healing suites when I'd been treated there and I had the impression he didn't think much of me, but that was unimportant. I pulled him off balance and into the wall, placing my knife on his spine where one thrust would sever the spinal cord. In the end, it wasn't hard to persuade him to come along even if it didn't do anything for my personal popularity. He examined Sif, compassion for his patient taking over, and it wasn't long before he reported that she had indeed miscarried. It would have been a daughter. Tears spilled from her eyes and she stifled the sound of her crying with her hand. The healer insisted we leave; we insisted we couldn't leave her alone, unguarded, and at risk. In exchange for the healer's personal promise to ensure Sif's continued well-being, we left Sam, since he was the one with the medical training, to watch out for her, and Jim and I went on to help the others, if we could find them.

The fight was in the throne room. We slid inside to a phantasmagorical nightmare. Shades of the dead filled the hall; although they seemed unable to hold a weapon, they were fairly terrifying. The loyalty of the guard was split; some of them fought for Hela, others for Thor. Jim launched to join Tony in attacking from above, and I snuck around the perimeter of the hall to see what was going on before rushing in. My friends had their hands full with Hela's personal guard; she seemed to be accompanied by a massive man who was skillful enough to keep both Loki and Thor at bay. It didn't look like the battle was going our way, however. There wasn't anybody who was unharmed, and Thor and Loki were barely holding on.

I walked up behind Hela and did what I'd threatened to do to the healer; severed her spinal cord. Now was not the time to fight fair. I pushed her off my knife as she screamed hate and rage, then aimed a kick at her temple that rendered her unconscious. I waded into the fight with Nike, striking with the intent to put down my opponent with three strikes or less. We were outnumbered and most of us didn't have any kind of enhanced durability. I had just engaged a guardsman when I heard the oddest sound; it was like silk ripping and a sliding noise; I looked over to see the man Thor and Loki and Loki's copies of himself were fighting start to grow and change shape. His shouts of laughter devolved into a lower sound, hissing, as his form changed to a gigantic serpent. WTF? I had so had it with freaking snakes. I ran forward as the snake struck at Thor.

Loki jumped in front of his brother and took the strike himself. He slid to the floor gracelessly; the sight reenergized Thor and he stepped over his brother to renew combat. I darted forward and dragged Loki to the side as the copies of Loki faded to nothing.

He wasn't in good shape; his fair skin had lost all its color and was fading to a grayish tone. "Be careful," he warned me, blood bubbling shockingly red on his lips. "Odin's brother. Cul. Take care--" his words faded as the light left his expressive eyes. I had to take a moment to deal with the shock of his death and swipe at my eyes before I could force myself back to my feet.

Combat had paused in the hall; all eyes were on Thor and Cul. When the battle between them was joined, it was brutal in ways I'd never seen before. No blows were pulled even a little. It wasn't just a fight to victory, each wanted the other to suffer, to see defeat approach before death. The strikes from the snake-Cul and bolts of lightning from Mjolnir struck the hall, damaging it; blocks of stone were working themselves loose, stone dust filtering down. Another blow from the snake tail had the stone starting to fall. I started for the nearest door, but a stone took out a guardsman right in front of me. I whimpered and changed direction. Everyone was trying to escape. Lightning from Mjolnir struck me, but it bounced off me; I think it recognized me. Thank somebody. Somehow, the serpent-Cul could still speak, and he taunted his nephew, whose temper flared until he was reacting, not acting. Thor, enraged, charged him, and Cul seized his opportunity and struck, two massive fangs piercing his armor. He pulled his head free and reared up triumphantly as Thor staggered nine steps before crumpling to the ground.

Cul's moment of triumph was shortlived; in shock I saw his head spinning away and the great flexible body went slack, spraying blood as it hit the floor. Behind him was Odin, with a greatsword in his hands. His eye took in the slaughter in the hall and the bodies of his sons. Then he walked slowly over to Hela, who was recovering consciousness. Kneeling beside her, he grasped her jaw and forced her to look at him.

"Release my sons from your halls, Hela," he said, power in his voice vibrating the air. Energy sizzled along the blade of his sword; it actually sparked, visible to the naked eye.

"And if I refuse?" she spat. Small jolts, like mini-earthquakes, shook the hall, making the damage worse.

"Then you will spend your remaining centuries in my cells, pissing and shitting yourself uncontrollably, unable to move your legs or care for yourself. But the scum of the Nine Realms may not mind that as they violate you at their pleasure," Odin said implacably. My skin crawled and the hair on the back of my neck stood up in revulsion as he spoke of the degradation and indignities she would suffer. That fate would terrify any woman. That Odin was using it as a tool shocked me as much; I wouldn't thought he'd treat any woman, much less a powerful goddess, like that. The earthshaking died away, but the power in the sword built. I found myself retreating from his presence, step by slow step until I bumped into something; looking around frantically, I saw it was Steve. His hand found mine; I don't think I could have stood any kind of restraint, even his arm around my waist. Even his.

"And if I do?" Hela asked, the defiance leeched from her voice.

He held up a beautiful golden apple, shimmering softly in the lights. "Your restoration, so long as you promise to stay out of Asgard and trouble me no further."

"You have my word," she snarled, and after a few long moments, the body of Loki began to stir, venom from the snake spilling out of the wounds, the punctures knitting together and closing. It was unbearably creepy. Directly in front of me, Thor began to move. Odin observed this, giving Hela the apple before standing and helped Thor to stand. I turned to Loki, and Steve stepped over and gave him a hand up. Loki still looked wild and pale as he scanned the hall. Odin and Thor approached; it took everything had not flee the hall with all the speed I possessed. Odin held up the sword and flicked the last of Cul's blood from the shining surface.

"I took this sword from the demon Surtr when I defeated him," Odin said, sliding it into its scabbard. The power flaring off the blade quenched. "Its name is Ragnarok. It is prophesied that drawing it will begin the end of the world, yet that has not occurred." He half-turned away and shouted orders for the hall to be cleared and for the masons to attend. I saw Hela rise and walk away, fading away as she did so.

"How is Sif?" Thor asked urgently.

"She miscarried," I said, feeling for the first time like that might not be an entirely bad thing. Another female, born into this world, wasn't such a joyous thought after what I'd just seen. "The healer says she'll be fine, though." Thor nodded, and strode after his father. Loki half-smiled at me and followed.

The team gathered around Steve and me. Nobody was ok with what had happened, but Wanda and Natasha and I were the worst off. "Does anybody know where the quinjet is?" Wanda asked in a higher-than-normal voice.

"I can't wait to go home," I agreed.

"How's Sif?" Natasha asked me.

"She'll be ok," I said.

"Let's go see," she said, and the three of us bolted that hall. We found that Sif had been moved to a treatment room. When he saw us and heard that it was over, Sam left for the hall and we stayed with Sif. Wanda and Natasha were treated for injuries from the battle and we took turns telling Sif what happened. She pried out what really had us freaked out.

"Odin would never..." her voice faded away. "You have nothing to worry about," she tried again. "The Allfather owes you a debt."

"No offense, but I don't think we really want to test that," Natasha muttered. At that moment, Bucky stuck his head in the room and told us we were wanted in the throne room. Reluctantly, we left Sif and returned.

When we arrived, Odin was speaking with Thor and Steve; the other men, including Loki, looked on. Odin motioned us over, and I tried hard not to feel like a little woman intruding on men's work. Odin held out his arm for me and I took it with the lightest possible touch. We walked up to the throne, and I stood aside as he climbed the stairs to the seat.

"And how can I reward those who did so much to help me reclaim my throne?" Odin asked, his ravens alighting on either side of him.

"I would just like to go home," Natasha said. "We did it for Thor." Her flat voice resounded through the hall and Thor winced slightly.

"Is this the wish of all?" Odin said sharply, and we all agreed. "I owe you a special debt," he said to me, but I shook my head.

Then I lifted my head enough to look at him. "There is something. You can revisit Loki's sentence. And then I would really like to go home."

Odin's face settled, as if he'd expected more. "Thor will escort you to your craft," he said austerely. I nodded at him and trailed behind. Loki fell into step with me.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"I saw what you did," I muttered back, and he turned, quirking a smile, as his father barked his name. There wasn't a lot of conversation as we got back into the guard's vehicle and Hawkeye gave Thor directions to the cloaked quinjet.

In short order, we were strapping ourselves into our seats as Clint took us up.


	12. The next mission

I didn't really relax until we were on the approach to the complex and Clint was throttling back so we could land. Conversation started up again, and we made an agreement to hang out the next night in the rec room, but right now everybody wanted to decompress in their own way. Steve and I walked home, to be greeted by a thrilled Torburn and Sigurd. Laura and the kids had collected the mail each day and put it on the kitchen table; I was pleased to see an envelope from the county in with the catalogs and junk mail and a small box. I stopped to open it, smiled, and showed Steve. I'd had his name put on the deed to the house, just in case anything happened to me. He gaped at me, then followed me up the stairs. I was desperate to get out of the suit, wash off Asgard, and get into some natural fiber clothing that fit. Steve joined me in the shower. So the whole natural fiber clothes thing could wait.

The privacy was such a privilege, though. The silence. No other beings, no other people. No crisis, no killing. It was such a blessing to be home. 

After, I was just falling asleep when Steve awkwardly thanked me for putting his name on the deed. "It's our house now," I murmured, then went to sleep with his arm around me, in our bed.

I woke up when there was vigorous movement on the other side of the bed and my back was chilly. Rolling over, I smiled to see him wrestling with the small box from the mail. He looked over at me and smiled. "Wait a sec," he directed, as he finally defeated the tape and opened the box. Then he lay back down so that we were face to face. He pushed my hair off my face. "Listen, we need to talk. It's not bad," he hurried to assure me as the smile slid off my face. "I've been thinking about it for a long time, but this last mission has made me certain, beyond any doubt. I love you more than I thought was possible. I need you like... like water. I need your love and caring, your kindness, your strength, your brain, and your body. Will you marry me? I know I'm not much of a catch, I'm kind of an old guy, I have some trauma, I--" I cut him off with a kiss.

"Yeah, ok." I looked into his beautiful eyes. "Throw in a new uniform design and I'm yours."

I started to laugh when he did, and I nipped his lower lip. "Never heard of a proposal where the guy makes sure the woman knows what he thinks is wrong with him."

"I know it wasn't very romantic," he sighed. "But I wanted you to take everything into consideration. Our lives aren't easy. You could find a guy with more to offer, but you'll never find someone who loves you more."

I teared up. "I love you too. There's nobody who could offer me more, because you're everything I need. Yes."

We kissed, then he remembered something and took something out of the box. "I guess I'm supposed to show you this when I asked you to marry me, kind of an inducement," he said, joking, as he opened the ring box and showed it to me.

"Oohhhhh..." I breathed. "It's so beautiful."

"It's not a diamond," he said nervously, and I struggled to sit up since I was laying on my left side.

"It's the most beautiful sapphire I've ever seen," I said, and held out my hand. He slid it onto my finger and sighed in relief.

"It's different. And elegant, just like you. I wanted to get you a ring that is one of a kind, just like you." I was touched to hear how he thought of me.

"I love it," I said, sighing in pleasure. This time, I was on top, my hand flat on his chest so that I could watch the light play in the fabulous sapphire, the little diamonds winking, feeling him inside me. 

"I got a lot of crap for how I said it in the arena," he said later, and I laughed. "So maybe you could be sure to say it was more romantic this time? We didn't go out to dinner, though, maybe I should have asked you with champagne and chocolates--"

"I thought it was romantic," I assured him. "The clothes-off option was definitely the way to go." He started to laugh, relieved, I think. "I might edit it a bit to remove the part where you were apparently telling me why you think you're not a catch, though."

"I would appreciate that," he agreed. We ordered pizza to celebrate.

After dinner, we stayed downstairs with the dogs and talked about how to incorporate his things into the house better, but he really liked the idea of the attic for his personal library and art studio. Then I called Peter to let him know we were all still alive and back on the planet.

"We just got back a few hours ago," I assured him.

"You don't look all that good," he said, looking at me closely. "I mean, you seem really happy, but you seem stressed out too. Was it that bad?"

"It was pretty bad in parts," I said, reflecting. "You'll be hearing about it in the debrief tomorrow. I'll be sure it's during your study hall. You can still get excused if they think it's about your internship at Stark Tech, right?" He nodded.

"Thanks for including me, Emma," he said. "I appreciate it."

"Did anything happen while we were gone?" I asked, and he had a few things that were New York-specific to report, but nothing that was beyond his capabilities, and I praised his handling of the situations, he'd had to bring Daredevil in on one.

Then I smiled. "And there's something else." I looked at Steve. "Steve and I are engaged. You're the first one to know."

"Really?" Pete said, sounding excited. "That's awesome. Congratulations!" Steve poked his head into the camera angle and Pete congratulated him too. "So when are you getting married? Can you do it during the summer so I can be there too?"

"I hadn't even thought of the logistics end," Steve said ruefully.

"We just got engaged this afternoon," I said. "I haven't even thought about the wedding. But yeah. The wedding will be when you can be with us."

After some more happy chatter, we hung up, and we went up to bed.

We slept in the next morning and took our time getting ready to go back to work. On our way over, Steve handed me a plastic ziplock baggie with a fine chain inside. "I almost forgot. When you're working, you can put your ring on the chain so it doesn't get damaged or lost." I smiled and stretched up to kiss his jaw. This is one reason why walking to work is much better than driving. Kissing without having to worry about a wreck. We kissed me a little more at my workshop, then he left me to my work and went up to get a head start on the paperwork for this last mission. I had a lot that I could be doing, but I spent an obscene amount of time that morning just smiling goofily and looking at my engagement ring. I did do some real work, though, and I spent time on the floor grooming the dogs and telling them what had happened. "I wish you'd come too," I told them as I brushed them and clipped their claws. "But I really appreciate that you looked after Odin." Sigurd spent a lot of time looking at me reproachfully or with concern, and Torburn barked anxiously at key points in the story, like when I was telling them about that orange guy. Then I asked what had happened here while I was gone, and they barked a lot, then gave the canine version of shrugging. I'd give a lot to be able to understand them the way they understood me. Then we went up to lunch, and security wanted to know what to do about Loki's cell.

"I don't actually know," I said, frowning, "but you can probably pack up everything, leave the boxes there until we figure it out." The senior man on the rotation nodded and we discussed it a little more before I had to go up to the debriefing.

It was closing onto five when we had explained everything to Nick's satisfaction and signed our statements about the action; our verbal statements had been made into documents by software and printed out; all we had to do was sign. "I think that's about it then," Nick said, gathering everybody's reports and stapling them.

"Not quite," I said, smiling as everybody looked at me. "Uh, Steve and I got engaged." I held up my left hand.

There was an audible intake of breath at the news and Steve looked smug, taking my hand and lacing our fingers. Then there were hugs for me and slaps on the shoulder for Steve, questions about when the wedding would be that we couldn't answer.

We adjourned the meeting and went down the hall to the rec room, where we had dinner brought up and an impromptu engagement party started. Tony put bottles of champagne into the refrigerator to chill during dinner, then offered the first toast. Later, he refilled my glass and asked, "So you're really ready to do this?" he asked quietly, and I smiled. 

"Never more sure."

Natasha asked about wedding plans and where we wanted to honeymoon. Everybody had suggestions and opinions.

After the party broke up, we walked home, the stars winking overhead in familiar constellations. I took a moment to appreciate that.

"We don't have to get married right away," Steve offered. "We can take our time."

"Forget it, pal," I said, snorting, swinging our hands. "If I wait too long, you might come to your senses." He grinned a little, looking down at me. "But we can manage this however we want. We don't have to announce our engagement right away. Maybe right before the wedding." We walked along, thinking.

"Small wedding?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Definitely. Here? That way we can control the media access."

"Yep." We strolled along in silence, probably each of us picturing it our own way. There would be compromises as we agreed on things we both could enjoy.

"Where do you want to go for the honeymoon?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"I don't really care, since I plan on spending most of it in our hotel room," I said, and winked at him. He grinned.

"Can I surprise you, then?" he asked, and I agreed.

"Just tell me if we're going somewhere hot or cold so I can pack right," I requested, and he smirked.

"I thought you said you weren't planning on going out," he ribbed me.

I sighed and shook my head. "Gotta go to and from the airport, dear." He laughed and picked me up in a hug, swinging me around.

"But let's just spend a few days enjoying this," I said as we resumed walking. He held the gate for me. "Once we signal that we're planning, you know everybody's going to get involved, have opinions, all that. And that's nice and will definitely cut down on the work we have to do, you know what the team is like. Single-focused and determined. God knows what we'll end up with."

"Yeah," he said, chortling. "Let's relax a little before unleashing them on a wedding scenario."


	13. Getting back to normal

A few weeks later, Steve was herding Tony and me over the newly restored obstacle course (it had been fun to be excused from it while it lasted) and Tony had an idea for our wedding.

"Go next door," was his suggestion. I fell off the climbing wall when my concentration slipped.

"Where next door?" I said, in a rather bad mood, brushing myself off. "Our house?"

"Next door state," Tony specified. "Come on, Harrington, get your ass in gear. I'm getting old waiting for you." I flipped him off and made another attempt. This wall was higher than the previous one. "Idaho. You can get married the same day you get your license, so you can go from the licensing bureau to your venue, no chance for the media to gather. I grunted at him as I clung to the top of the wall before descending to the other side. I was meanly pleased to see that Tony was having trouble with the new wall too.

"Get Maria Hill to rent the venue, we all come over on quinjets, we come back home after the party, you guys go on your honeymoon," he gasped.

"That sounds pretty good, actually," I said, looking at Steve, who was beginning to smile.

"I suppose you have an idea about the officiant," he said to Tony, who waved his hand at us. I must have looked a little nervous, because Steve specified that it would have to be a clean and modest ceremony.

"You don't think I can do it?" Tony said in mock affront as we started off.

"Frankly, no," I said, and he grinned.

"I take that as a challenge," he said, which made me afraid. Very afraid.

We had to put the brakes on everybody, who wanted to charge ahead. It wasn't that we didn't want to get married, but Steve and I were enjoying being engaged, getting used to living together, getting back into life on Earth doing romantic things like picnics. With the dogs, not so very romantic, but still fun. The one thing we did do was decide on the venue, Fourth Street Gardens in a town called Emmett, ID. They had a lovely pergola for an outdoor wedding, and since you arranged for your own catering and bar, we didn't even have to worry about that. We could order the booze here, and catering was excited to deal with our wedding. As long as the media wasn't alerted, we could have an amazing ceremony and reception, then run for our honeymoon. Since everybody knew I couldn't get married without a dress, not going shopping for one was the signal that we were taking our time. The only thing I had to worry about was not wearing Steve's ring when I went out as Paladin. I didn't want to forget and risk having it damaged, since I suspected the vintage ring wouldn't be easy to repair. And I didn't want Paladin wearing my ring in public.

Steve did design my new field uniforms, and he cleverly includedd details to make my body look different in order to help bolster my secret identity. Sexier, still not over the top. I appreciated the attempt to separate me from my alter ego, and Promotions certainly did as well. They started to go after the guys' uniforms, pushing them to highlight their assets too. In some cases, this didn't go over too well, as with Bucky, when he found that his new pants were cut to emphasize his packet. I happened to be passing by when he was yelling at them and couldn't repress a grin. Pietro had a similar problem; his Quicksilver suit was skin tight and there was nowhere for anything to hide. The guys got no sympathy from the women, though. Only Tony and Jim were safe, since they wore metal suits. (It so frustrated Promotions.) The new uniforms were the same types of fabrics as my old ones, though, although the black and gray fabrics were sometimes highlighted with a blaze of bright blue here and there. I thought about the Grandmaster's arena every time I pulled one on.

One day, Thor and Sif showed up. Odin was back on the throne of Asgard, reasserting his reign, and Thor had become unneeded, at least for awhile. There was also another reason for his return, of course.

"The Allfather requests the continuation of Loki's incarceration here on Earth, for a period of time not to exceed ten of your years," he said, a touch nervously. I just looked at him. "Loki's actions during Hela's usurption have been taken into consideration. However, he did escape, despite his promise not to. This is a light sentence for him."

This time, nobody was as excited to provide a favor for Asgard. Wanda and Natasha joined me in voting no, along with Bucky and Pietro. Steve, the ultimate law-and-order guy, felt that Loki's jailbreak did warrant punishment, and the others who felt that it was still a good idea to do a favor for a powerful being voted for continuing to provide Loki's jail cell. Thor looked confused by our lack of enthusiasm, but wisely didn't press the issue. Arrangements, much more straightforward than last time, were made. I went down to tell security to hold off the clearing-away efforts and we decided to have housekeeping in to give it a really thorough clean, although it wasn't dirty.

I wasn't happy about Loki's continuing incarceration, but I had to admit that I was looking forward to seeing him again. I thought that maybe, if he continued to behave, I'd float the idea of letting him out now and then, seeing the outdoors under supervision, of course. To the surprise of everyone, Odin accompanied Loki and the security detail. There was some standing around as Odin and Nick conversed. I sidled up to Loki and smiled at him.

"It is good to see you looking so well," he said.

"You too. You seem to have recovered well from death." He grinned.

"Imp," he said.

"No height jokes," I warned.

"And what is....news with you? I believe that is the phrase."

"The big one is that Steve and I will be getting married," I said, and his eyes widened. He smiled as I showed him the ring.

"Is there a reason he's marked you with a big blue shield?" he asked mockingly, and I sniffed in mock outrage.

"It's a sapphire, not a shield," I said primly.

"It is a lovely ring for a lovely woman," he said approvingly.

"Don't hit on my girl," Steve said warningly, coming up and putting his arm around me. I smiled. Boys.

The chatting was cut short as our security team stepped up to escort Loki back to his cell, and I thought that all the Asgardians would go away--Thor's buddies had been located and had come with the party as well--but Odin asked to speak with me. Dang.


	14. Confession is good for the soul

Odin started strolling away from the group toward the path into the woods, and asked to see my workshop saying that he'd like to see where Mjolnir was reforged.

"You'll be disappointed, I think," I said lightly. "It's not a typical forge." I've seen an Asgard smithy. Big, dark, cavernous, noisy, hot, dirty. It's like they had an aversion to windows, brooms, cleaning agents of any kind.

Odin was indeed taken aback by my workspace, even when I show him the actual forge. "This is very compact," he noted. "Very... bright."

"If I need to, I can darken the room," and I demonstrate how I can activate a film in the windows to block sunlight. "But I usually don't need to. I don't need to see the color change in the metal to judge how hot it is." He seemed a little disappointed anyway, and this will be one of the reasons that in short order nobody will remember who reforged Mjolnir-- a human, a woman, who didn't use a standard forge. Loki's words notwithstanding, my name is never going to be linked with Wayland the Smith or Regin.

"What troubles you?" Odin said as we paced back to the others. "You have been distant since the battle in the citadel. Tell me your concerns. Is it the first time you have killed?"

"No, I've killed before." The image of Sess, dead in the mud from my weapon flashed past my mind's eye. "The real problem is the punishment you threatened Hela with."

"Do you have children?" he asked. I shook my head. "Then you do not know. You would do anything to save them."

"I may not have children, but I understand the urge," I said coolly. "There were the threats to Hela of the degradation, of centuries of rape and humiliation. It's one thing to know that women are treated unequally on Asgard and another to have your face shoved in it. To realize how little respect or protection they have." Odin's face flushed red. "I severed her spine because I knew it was something the healers there could fix easily but would put her down for the remainder of the fight. If I'd have known what you were going to do with it, I wouldn't have done it."

"She usurped my throne," he said angrily.

"And you let her get away with it, so that's not really a reason. Knowing that you think rape is an appropriate punishment--and not just the threat of a single incident, but serial rape, by multiple men, for however long she lasted--has forced me to question the wisdom of continued association with you and Asgard in general," I said baldly. "Rape is a power play. Perpetrated by men, mostly, who want something and don't care if the other person has any objection. It's a way to enforce a perception of superiority by damaging someone else. It's not acceptable behavior." By this time, Odin's anger was practically strangling him, and we were nearly back with the others.

"You dare question me?"

"I'm not questioning," I corrected. "It isn't as if you'd listen to a human woman's questions about your morality. You asked what my problem is. I'm telling you that I have concerns about the treatment of women in your realm and frankly, I am uneasy about my safety were I to return there." I shook my head. "The first time I went to Asgard, Thor completely forgot about me. I doubt that if I hadn't done a service for Heimdall that anybody would have troubled themselves with me. Loki managed to free Fandral and Volstagg and send them here for help, but they couldn't have been less grateful for the help we provided or any more condescending. We were the ones who went into the Grandmaster's arena. We fought. We were injured, sometimes seriously. We found Thor and enabled his return. I found you wandering around Seattle like a crazy homeless guy. I arranged for your care and treatment and that your ravens were to have access to you. Most of you Asgardians think that we're less than you, and the women are barely tolerated. Yet without us, you wouldn't be here now. And I have to wonder if that would be a bad thing for us here on Earth. Hela isn't without reason, and this Cul...who knows?" I shrugged. "Hela probably has a pretty tight leash on him; she could send him to her halls at any time if he decided he didn't want to be subservient to an uppity woman anymore."

Odin looked like he didn't know whether his head should explode with rage or he should be very worried. "Cul is my older brother," he said tightly. "He is the god of fear, and if you fear your treatment in Asgard, know that he would have worse ahead for you if he could capture you. He is not to be trusted. He would delight in your torment. Humans are not our equals. You are small and weak, for the most part. You have no higher powers other than what your science can wrench from the cosmos for you. And women are weaker than men. Your bodies are meant to be receptacles, to bear young." He shrugged. I bared my teeth.

"And yet, when Asgard's mighty fell, to whom did you come for help? To the weak, disregarded humans. We may be small and physically weaker, but we use our intelligence and our imagination to our advantage. And to yours. You are sadly mistaken if you think that all a woman is good for is sex and breeding. It is certainly convenient for you to think so; you're all very fond of your superiority. You're living in a fairy tale if you think that women live to mounted and squeeze out kids, risking their lives in pregnancy and childbirth. Your realm, your rule is made much weaker because you refuse to acknowledge that women have more than one dimension. I am not stronger than all men, but I am stronger than some men. I fall into the upper one percent of human intelligence. I can do things with my mind that so far, no one else can. Natasha is someone everybody should treat warily and with respect; her skills at killing are better than yours. If Wanda wanted, the damage she could cause in your mind would beggar whatever happened when you were dumped in Seattle. Just like all women, we are far more than a uterus. And you know what? The most interesting thing about my work with Mjolnir is not that I reformed it. It's how I came to be in possession of it." I smiled fiercely. "When I found that pile of shards, it had no power and it had just appeared on my benchtop. Surveillance footage showed a little blip, no light show. The shards weren't there one moment and there the next. Heimdall didn't send them. They had no discernible energy when I found them, they were completely drained. But over time, they regained their natural energy, which is how I was able to reform the hammer. Even in its fractured state, the hammer had energy. I believe, since every time someone sends something through the realms there is a discharge of energy as light, that the scraps of Mjolnir drained their power and sent themselves where they could be assured that they would be...helped. Not many people can send things from one realm to another, and every little bit of uru made the trip. I know this because there were no gaps to be filled. The fragments went preferentially to the spaces they had occupied before it was destroyed. Even if somebody had swept up the bits as carefully as possible, there would be lost mass. But there wasn't. It sent itself. To me.

"Once again, I voted against incarcerating Loki here. But for a different reason this time; he put himself on the line to help us and his brother. I don't feel like he deserves to be jailed. If not for his willingness to help, we'd probably be dead, imprisoned, or still bumbling around out in the wilderness. You would not be back on the throne of Asgard. You might want to reflect on that as you sit there. You might have saved Loki from exposure on Jotenheim, but you might try being honest with yourself. I don't believe it was solely pity that motivated you; you saw a potential tool. Thor has probably always been your favorite son. He almost restarted the war between Jotenheim and Asgard, but all he received was a temporary banishment. Loki tried to invade Earth, not Asgard, and he was facing a life of imprisonment. I personally feel this reflects badly on you as a father as well as a ruler."

"And what is it that you feel for Loki? Do you delude yourself into thinking he has feelings for you, that you could ingratiate yourself to him and he would take you to wife?"

I startled Odin by laughing. "Loki is my friend," I said baldly. "And I think that he considers me his friend. I'm not unaware of his faults, but I also see his good parts. I don't want to marry him." If Odin had Gungnir by his side, I have no doubt he'd have skewered me where I stood, but he'd come unarmed. He satisfied himself with a venomous glare. Nick rolled his eyes at me.

"Emma's views are her own," he said. "We are certainly willing to continue to work with Asgard for our mutual protection and benefit. We're bound now, and more than our realms know about it," Nick continued. "Other realms know we have helped you." I wanted to laugh. Nick had just boxed Odin into remembering that he owes us favors, should we want to collect on them. Odin's pride wouldn't permit an interstellar loss of face. Nick turned away to talk a little further with Odin, and I started to walk away

"Glad somebody pointed out his defects," Natasha muttered as she caught up with me.

"He asked," I stressed. "He told me to tell him what was bothering me."

"The next time they come begging, I won't go back there," Wanda said, coming up on my other side. "The boys can go save them. I don't want to help a criminal regime."

I stopped and reflected. "Guys, I feel better now that all that's off my chest." Wanda guffawed, which set of Natasha, and the three of us made for my workshop before I could piss off anybody else.


	15. Educational efforts

We hung out in the workshop until it was time for dinner. When we went up to the caf, Odin had left in a huff, Thor was very irritated with me, and the boys were not sympathetic to him.

"Are you really going to sit there and tell me that you really think all that women are good for is housework and kids?" Tony said in amazement. "Your own wife is a pretty impressive warrior."

Everybody, including Sif, looked at him, awaiting his reply. "Well, obviously not, but..." He'd have been so much better off without the but. Or butt, depending on how you looked at it.

"You're just a baby who wants to be cared for," Wanda observed. "You have always had someone picking up after you, seeing to your comfort and needs, and now you expect your wife make you her focus in place of your mother. Did it ever occur to you that women want to do something interesting and more meaningful than anticipating your every whim?"

Wow. Didn't expect that from her. Neither had anybody else, judging by the shocked faces. Sif managed to stifle a snicker.

"Where would you be without your hammer?" Bucky asked. "A woman made that for you."

"A few years ago, women in a remote city in Colombia went on a sex strike to pressure men into forcing the government to repair the road in and out of the city. Took over a hundred days, but the government started construction work," Natasha mentioned casually. "The Lysistrata strategy, cross your legs for peace and prosperity." I smirked at her. Steve looked alarmed.

"Not to worry, honey, you're an equal rights kind of guy,' I said to him, patting his hand. Most of the others started to laugh.

"But do you understand why rape as a punishment is so grotesque?" Wanda asked Thor suddenly.

"It's just sex," he said warily. "You have those parts so that a man may mate with you." Pietro inhaled his water and started to choke.

"You dumb bastard," Tony sighed, and offered Steve a dollar. Steve waved it aside.

Wanda just unloaded on him. She questioned Thor's hostility to women in power or who wanted to expand their power, his views of violence as something manly, danger as excitement, an endorsement of callous sexual attitudes, attraction to sexual aggression, whether he would force himself on a woman to put her in her place, as a show of power, to get revenge or feel better about himself, or whether he feels himself so superior to women that he's entitled to what he wants. I'd have felt sorry for him but...naw. Her lecture about consent and empathy took us through dessert.

"You may not have a vagina," Natasha said as she got up to leave, "but you have two other orifices. Think about what you'd feel like if somebody bigger than you decided it was just sex and bent you over." We left Thor at the table, his dinner uneaten.

We walked back to the house with Bucky and Natasha; she'd given us Cards Against Humanity and we were looking forward to playing it. "He's probably never wondered about it," Bucky said. "Women have probably always been willing to drop their panties for him. But if he's going to live and work here, he needs some sort of cultural acclimation. People already think we're too violent. All we need is some rape charge."

"You think he'd cheat on Sif?" Steve asked him.

"If she gets pregnant again, has the kid, he expects her to take care of it, which would mean he's not the focus of her life and he'd probably take that as a reason to fool around," Bucky shrugged.

"Tony can handle it," Steve said cravenly. "He's got a whole HR department." Suddenly Torburn bolted through the bushes. I looked after him curiously. Sigurd trotted after him, then after a few moments, began barking. We followed the sound to where Torburn was whining anxiously. There was a dead cat, a tiny kitten by her side. I sighed. I could see where this was going. Steve checked the cat, which was cold. The kitten was mewing in distress, and Steve looked at me with a twinkle in his eye.

"I guess we're adopting a kitten," he said.

"Guess so," I said. We couldn't leave the poor thing to die, after all. Natasha and I went to the pet store while the guys took the kitten to the vet for a checkup. "I hope Torburn doesn't start bringing wildlife home," I said as we piled a cart with formula, a small cat bed, clippers for the kitten's needle-like claws, and a litterbox, to be prepared, since we didn't know how old the kitten was. An associate told us that we needed to keep it warm and provide a cozy dark place for it, so we got a special heating pad for pets and stopped by a fabric store to buy some fleece. We liked a pale green one, very soft, that would look nice with the kitten's black fur. 

The guys had beaten us back to the house and Steve was feeding the kitten with formula they'd gotten at the vet. Bucky was smiling and wanted to try too. I went to find a box and scissors to cut up the fleece. Steve told us that the vet estimated that the kitten was about four weeks old, so it was good that we had the litterbox now since that was when they were supposed to start using it. It was small and shallow so the kitten could get in and out by itself. Well, herself, actually. Following her feeding, Steve put her in the box and encouraged her to dig around, which she started to do in a very determined manner. We put the litter box in a box lid with one end cut out to help contain the flying litter. After that, the kitten sagged to the ground, exhausted, and Torburn looked anxious. Ultimately, I put the heating pad in the cat bed with a piece of fleece over the top to make a nice nest-y feeling, and Torburn curled around the bed with the little kitten. Sigurd looked at his son with amusement, but he also settled down close by. Bucky and Natasha left once everything calmed down.

The next morning, we packed up, leaving the dogs and the kitten in my workshop while Steve and I did the obstacle course and worked out in the gym. Word about our new addition spread and it was hard to focus on work with Avengers wanting to meet the kitten. When it got closer to lunch, I packed it in and we all trooped up the hill. First, though, I went down to introduce Loki and see how he was settling in again. He seemed delighted by the kitten and passed her back through the slot in the glass only reluctantly. The cleaners had been through and he was unpacking the things that had been boxed up, arranging things on shelves. While he wasn't thrilled to be back in his cell, he also wasn't as depressed about it as I'd thought he might be.

"I may not have my freedom," he shrugged, "but this is much nicer than the dungeons on Asgard. You visit, and the guards talk to me." It made me wonder what his previous confinement was like, and I made a note to look up the effects of solitary confinement. I asked if there was something particular he'd like to read, and he requested history books. After lunch (the caf staff and the guards also liked the little kitten) I ordered him some books on world history, starting with antiquity, some anthropology and archaeology.

I felt pretty good about things, all in all. Thor was frosty when I ran into him, but he'd get over it. Thor wasn't as smart as Loki, but he wasn't stupid.

That night, as we were preparing to go to bed, I got a call from Peter. Steve leaned in to say hi on his way to the bathroom. "Uh, I wouldn't have called, but you said to call if I needed help," he said uncertainly after we'd gotten the chat out of the way.

"Yes, and I mean it," I said immediately. "I'd be hurt if you didn't tell me if you needed some assistance."

"Well, there's this new figure who's shown up lately," Peter said. "He calls himself Silvermane. He's associated with organized crime, which normally I don't touch." I nodded approvingly. "But I think he may be after me and I don't know if I can beat him. Daredevil and Dr Strange haven't been around lately, so..."

"She'll come out tomorrow, so stop in at Stark Tower after school," Steve said, emerging from the bathroom. "Stay in tonight, will you? Just in case. You need to develop a plan of attack in any case." Peter's face looked relieved, and he agreed. After we hung up, I accompanied Steve downstairs to give the kitten her last feeding for the day.

"You want to come too?" I ask, watching him with the kitten. "What are we going to name her, anyway?"

"I kind of like Sarah," he said, not looking at me.

"Ok," I said, after trying it out. More importantly, she meeped after hearing the name. "Any special reason?" I squeezed his hand before petting the kitten as she ate.

"That was my mom's name."

"I like it," I said, and he smiled at me.

"No, I can't go, I'm still doing paperwork from the Asgard mission and Loki's continuing incarceration here. Fury has me doing threat assessment in my spare time. Plus if Captain America shows up for no good reason, it might tip off this Silvermane that we're coming for him. No point to that. I'll send Stark with you, though, he's always going back and forth and he's good in a fight. If you need more help, I can send in additional personnel, maybe ditch the paperwork and come myself. The three of you should be able to take care of him, though." He put down the syringe of formula and I cleaned up. I appreciated his confidence in me and was happy to demonstrate it after we surrendered the kitten to Torburn. As I was drifting off to sleep, I heard Steve call Tony, who wasn't all that thrilled to hear from him. I drifted off to sleep smirking at the edge of laughter in Steve's voice and Tony's complaints.

Steve had timed our departure for after the obstacle course and gym. "New York is looking pretty good," I muttered as I did an agility drill with old tires.

"What was that, sweetheart?" Steve asked, as he zoomed past me. Man has ears like a bat.

"Gonna miss this sooooo much," I said sarcastically, and he laughed. After the work out, he carried my bags to the quinjet. I was dressed up in a suit and pumps. He's so sweet. I kissed Sarah's little head before patting the dogs--Torburn didn't want to leave the kitten, so they were both staying put, although if anybody else came out Sigurd would come too--and kissed Steve goodbye. 

"On your own time, Harrington," Tony said briskly, popping my shoulder as he went by. "No time to suck face, we have a teenager to rescue." In revenge, I gave Steve a couple more quick kisses before turning to Tony and giving him my luggage. He rolled his eyes and walked up the ramp.

"I'll call later," I said, and he walked me to the jet, making sure I got up the ramp ok.

"Good luck, sweetheart," he said, and backed away. The ramp closed, and we were off. I texted Wanda, Pietro, and Bucky, asking them to check on Loki while I was gone. The reading I'd done on solitary confinement was pretty horrifying.

Partway to New York, Tony shoved a file of paper at me. I took it warily. "You're going to be the new coordinator of the tech and science interns," he said.

"Am I," I said.

"Yep."

"Tony, I have a job already," I complained.

"Yep, but I could use your help wrangling the mutts. Besides, it'll give you an excuse to come to New York once a month or so, you can visit Peter. Com on, it's just a day or two. It'd be a big help to me if you could track their interests and check on their progress with their mentors. You know I like to keep my eye on talent and I'm reinstating scholarships for kids with promise who will work for Stark Industries after graduation. It's hard to run the business from Seattle, even if I come back East a lot."

I sighed. When he put it like that, I couldn't very well refuse. He nominally had somebody running the company, but he still had a lot to do because he didn't entirely trust his board not to try to oust him. As it was, his board had insisted that he agree to transfer day-to-day operations to a CEO--who they found, when he got more involved in the Avengers. But the man had been selected by the board and he didn't entirely trust him either. Tony was stretched thin these days. He no longer had majority control and that worried me a little. "Ok," I said reluctantly.

He smirked and I started to read the papers. For such a large and important company Stark Tech didn't have many interns in science and tech. They did get a great experience, though; they were paid and rotated through several different divisions helping scientists and engineers with their projects, getting experience and developing their interests. By the time we landed, I had a pretty good grip on the kids and what they were doing. Peter was the youngest one; most were seniors, and the application deadline for the next years' interns was fast approaching. I bet there were tons of applications.

When we landed, we dropped our bags off at the secured levels and Tony walked me down to my office on the level just beneath the Avengers altitude. "You've always had an office," he said with an eye roll. "Everybody's got an office." It was nice, a good view of the skyline, a nice solid desk, comfortable chair. A personal assistant hurried up shortly after we got there and asked how she could help me. I asked her to set up interviews with the interns over the next couple of days, and she moved to the desk down the hall and turned on the computer. I blinked. I've never had a personal assistant before. Tony smirked and said he'd see me after work. Tech support arrived and set me up with management access. I sat in my executive chair and spun in circles until my PA reported that she'd contacted all the interns and would calendar them for meetings starting tomorrow.

"Great. Thank you," I said. "I'm Emma Harrington." She smiled.

"I'm Eliza Nelson, Ms Harrington," she said. We talked a little about my new job; she knew a lot more about the company than I did and had some great suggestions. Then, since I had nothing to do, I went out into the city. I got my hair cut; I was amused to hear from the stylist that white hair was trending due to the Paladin, and went shopping. I could keep a wardrobe here with a few things so I wouldn't have to pack. I stopped by a bakery on the way back and picked up a treat for Eliza. She was pleased to see me and had about half the appointments set up. Peter was my first one tomorrow.

Tony had dinner delivered and we chatted about work, then he went back downstairs to do some more work before Peter stopped by. I called Steve, and after I heard about his day and received an update on Sarah, I told him about my new job.

I'd been kind of afraid he'd be peeved with me for accepting a job without talking to him about it--a lifetime of making my choices solo was hard to break, but he started laughing. "I think it's good that you'll be able to monitor Peter more closely," he said, his chuckles dying away. "We have a responsibility to him and you'll like spending more time with him." His dear face sobered. "I'm worried about Tony, though, and this kind of confirms it. He's working too hard, and I'm worried that he'll burn out. Bourbon's his best friend when he gets under too much pressure, and the last thing he needs is a drinking problem." We talked about this some, and Steve said he'd talk to Nick about maybe encouraging a more truly bi-coastal presence for the Avengers, encouraging members to spend time in New York, maybe going back to the old facility and setting up special training units there. That way Tony wouldn't have to go back and forth so much and we could help him out too. Then there was a ping as the tower AI Friday let me know that Peter had swiped his card, and I sighed.

"Miss you," I said wistfully, kissing my fingertips and pressing them over his lips on my screen. "Love you. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"You better, sweetheart," he said fondly. "Take care." He cut off just as the elevator opened and Pete stepped out. I stood up and gave him a big hug, which he returned. Tony said he'd be up shortly, so we got to chat a bit and I told him about my new job. Gratifyingly, he seemed pleased that I'd be in town more often. Then Tony showed up and brought up research he'd done on Silvermane.


	16. There is just so much to do

"Ok, Pete, first of all, I don't want you pursuing this guy on your own. And no, it's not because you're a kid," Tony said sternly as Peter opened his mouth to protest. "Nobody should be tackling this guy single-handed. He's the head of a criminal organization, the Maggia, that makes the Mafia look like a bunch of Masons. I'm not sure whether the three of us will be enough, actually." He started flicking through the presentation. "This is SIlvermane, Silvio Manfreidi, before his accident and after." The first photo showed a frail old man of about eighty; the second had the head of that man on a powerful cyborg body.

"He was a normal human, although pretty fit and strong when he was younger. Big fan of guns, likes handguns for everyday use and a Thompson submachine gun for special. Who carries a Tommy gun these days?" he sniffed.

"Because it's a big-ass gun," I mumble. Tony ignored me.

"The people in his organization--and it's women as well as men, he's an equal-opportunity criminal--are the scum of the criminal underworld. They have screws loose, most of them, and if there's a vile, brutish way to accomplish their work, that's the way they'll do it. They're involved in protection schemes, drugs, illegal weapons, police corruption, prostitution--men, women, and children--politics. He's always battled Kingpin for control of New York, and it looks like he's making another push.

"My best guess is that if he's after you--and I'm not saying he isn't, just that I can't prove right now that he is--it would be because he wants something from you. Maybe just to eliminate you from the scene, maybe something like discovering the source of your powers, maybe try to get them for himself." Peter winced. Tony slid a small box down the table to him. "This is a tracker. I want you to start wearing it at all times in both identities. It's passive unless it's activated, which I will do if you don't check in regularly. Twice a day, when you get to school and at night. And don't go out until we have a better idea of what the old guy is plotting, ok?"

"But--"

"There are a lot of street-level heroes here these days," I observed, cutting him off as Tony put the tracker on Pete. "Which ones do you know, personally?"

"Well, Daredevil and Dr Strange, you know about them, and I've also met the Punisher, Iron Fist, Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, and Black Cat. And the Night Nurse, once, when I couldn't get here for treatment."

"Who's the Night Nurse?" I asked calmly.

"A nurse, Daredevil introduced me. Really nice. She patches up superheroes."

"I'd like to meet her," I mentioned.

"Ok, Pete, take Emma out and introduce her to the nightlife around here," Tony directed . I got up and went down the hall to assume my costume. On my way back, I heard Tony telling Pete not to call Steve "Mr Rogers" anymore. "He doesn't want to stick his hand up the butts of puppets," Tony asserted.

"Actually, I think he's allergic to cardigans," I said, coming back into the room. Tony snorted.

"That's kind of like the uniform of senior citizens."

"Yeah, but he looks younger," I said. "He won't even join AARP yet." Peter choked on his laugh. "Get some rest, Tony."

"Have her back before dawn," Tony told Pete, ignoring me. "You have school tomorrow and she's got to start herding all you interns."

We took the elevator down to the lowest garage level and out the secret door; Pete had changed into his suit too. It was kind of weird to take an elevator before going to do superhero stuff, for some reason. Not being a powered superhero or with a suit or wings, I kind of cramped Pete's style until we got to an older part of the city where I could go from rooftop to rooftop. Our first stop was at the Night Nurse; she was stitching up a pale woman Pete identified as Jessica; they chatted after Pete introduced me and the Night Nurse pulled me aside.

"You're an adult, can't you get him out of this?" the Night Nurse asked me in a low tone.

I shook my head. "I've tried, he won't listen. It's really frustrating." She grimaced in sympathy. "But listen, I appreciate that you're willing to patch him up, along with, I understand, the other masked people in the city. Can't be cheap. Would you accept a contribution?"

"Not if there are strings attached," she said bluntly.

"Not one. My ulterior motive is that I like Spidey having a place off the books to get some help. He can go to the clinic in Stark Tower if there's something serious, but I think he doesn't want to trouble anybody. I just appreciate what you're doing and I bet it's coming out of your own pocket. That's got to be tough, given the sheer number of stitches these guys need anyway. I feel better knowing that he has somebody to help him. He won't always call me when he needs help, and I'm not always in the city anyway." She agreed hesitantly and we agreed that I would come by the next night with my contribution.

While we were out, I met the Punisher and Iron Fist. We eyed each other's costumes in appreciation. He's got a really neat mask/scarf and what looks like tough silk pants. Not much else, though. I would be more appreciative if I didn't have Steve to compare him to. We teamed up to help a couple of waitresses getting offshift who were being menaced by a street gang.

"Silvermane's bunch," Iron Fist says wearily. "They're becoming bolder."

"Silvermane might be after Spidey here," I took the opportunity of saying. "That's why I'm here, to see if we can't find out what's going on, cripple him if possible. I don't know if we can take him down completely."

"Huh." Iron Fist thought about this. "Kingpin hasn't managed to do it, so I don't think that a masked bunch of heroes can. But you may be on to something with the idea of crippling him. That new body he's got is tough, but it can't be invincible."

"Maybe just crippling his business activities, getting other people to pressure him," Peter said tentatively, and I smiled. 

"That opens up other possibilities," I said. "I'm going to be around for a few days," I tell Iron Fist. "If you have any other ideas, I'm interested in hearing them. I can stop by the Night Nurse, she might be willing to pass on a message." Iron Fist nodded, then took off.

I dropped Peter off at his building and took a cab back to Stark Tower. Driver didn't bat an eye. Who knows, maybe costumed heroes/vigilantes were commonplace for him. I ran into Tony in the elevator but didn't comment on the lateness of the hour. "I met the Punisher and Iron Fist, and Jessica Jones, the PI," I told him. "We foiled...something, Silvermane's goons harassing a couple of waitresses."

"Just another pleasant evening," Tony quipped. "Meeting new people, exerting influence..." I snorted and told him about how we'd discussed crippling Silvermane. He sighed. "I'd prefer to take him out, but realistically, diverting his attention might be the best we can do right now. I wonder if there's some way of getting Kingpin to do our dirty work for us."

"I'm wary about trying to play the bad guys," I say, and Tony nods.

"Bites you on the ass too often," he agreed. "And my butt is too perfect for bite marks." I started to laugh. When we got on the residence floor, we parted and I went straight to bed. Forget Steve getting old; I was feeling more and more like fighting crime in daylight hours only.

The next morning I felt rather dissatisfied; sure, I could take up the middle of the bed, but I was missing my radiant heat source and the dogs and the kitten. I texted Steve that I missed him and went to the coffee shop on the main floor of the tower to get coffee for Eliza and me. The way she looked at the cup, you'd have thought nobody ever brought her coffee before. We went over the schedule for the day, and I added an off-site meeting in a hole in the afternoon. When I went into my office, I had a bowl of fruit on my desk (which I'd requested) and a tray of doughnuts (which I had not.) I turned on the computer and the IM program came up.

EH: I'm blaming you if I can't get into my suits.

EN: You'll be too busy running after the interns. Plus that will burn a lot of calories.

I smirked.

EH: If I'm going to herd interns, I want Eliza Nelson in charge of my lassos.

TS: I will make it so.

EH: Great. She gets me doughnuts.

TS: I may rethink that assignment.

EH: I will resist all attempts to reassign my PA/doughnut enabler. Just FYI.

TS: You're getting pretty territorial. Are you going to pee on her next?

EH: Certainly not. Gotta keep things looking good for the interns. I shall surround her with a moat and barbed wire. Possibly a tank as backup.

TS: You need to get in here and clean my screen. I just spit coffee on it.

EH: Still not sharing the doughnuts.

That's when Eliza let me know that Pete was here. He came in, and after the door closed behind Eliza, I gave him a hug and walked him over to the desk. I nudged the bowl of fruit toward him. "You should probably have something with fiber," I told him, and took a chocolate-glazed doughnut for myself. He smirked and picked up a cruller.

"Ok, so I talked to Tony briefly last night, brought him up to date. He'll work on a strategy for Silvermane, which we then can discuss," I brought Peter up to speed. "Meanwhile, pretend you're a normal high school student." He looked rebellious. "You don't want him to trace you to your home and aunt, do you?"

"No," he muttered, the rebelliousness dropping off his face. I nodded.

"It sucks," I said sympathetically. "But hopefully we can get this resolved soon. I enjoyed meeting your group of fellow professionals," I changed the subject. He smiled. Then I picked up a file. "Ok, let's talk about your internship." Pete looked confused.

"I thought that was just a cover," he said.

"It can serve two purposes," I shrugged. "And if I'm on the books as being in charge, I'm going to take care of that too. I'll be popping in once or twice a month to check up on you guys. So it looks like you're in a rotation in plastics. How's that going for you?" We discussed the rotations he'd had and what else he was interested in, I took notes, and soon Pete had to go back to school. I gave him a kiss on the cheek goodbye, then had to wipe off the lipstick as he fussed.

I had meetings with more of our interns, then at the end of the morning went down to find the scientist who'd been tracking the kids to make sure I wasn't stepping on any toes. The guy had a PhD in physics and was torn between being glad to focus on his research and a little resentment about having a responsibility, even one he didn't really want, taken away from him. I tried to smooth over the ruffled feelings by saying that someone with his credentials was more valuable working on his projects and asking if we could meet so I could get his thoughts and opinions on the interns and their performance. Works like a charm; everybody likes to feel important sometimes, and I asked if he'd mentor one of the kids who had the most promise and interest in physics. For a lot of people there is joy in sharing one's passion with others and helping to nurture someone else's interest in that passion, but you can't assume everybody feels that way. This guy was our leading physicist, though, and I wanted to give him first crack at the kid. He seemed gratified, and we parted on pretty good terms. My next move would be to match up our interns with an expert in the field they were most interested in pursuing, once they figured out what that was. On my way out, I sent Eliza an email asking her to send an email to all the New York staff announcing this new plan and asking for mentor volunteers and also to schedule a meeting with the physicist at his convenience.

Then I went to my appointment with Con. Over bento boxes, I told her what had happened in the Grandmaster's arena and Asgard, and then, holding out to the end, showed her my ring. She whooped and gave me a hug, wanting to know the details. I left feeling a lot better; she'd give me good perspective and helped me over the emotional rough spots. I had a couple of errands to run before going back.

When I got back to the tower, I ran into Maria Hill and accompanied her to her office where we chatted. She loved my ring and said she'd enjoy taking care of the venue rental for us. I couldn't be more grateful, and promised to let her know what date we were aiming for. Then it was back to the interns. Tony and I got sandwiches at the deli on the next block, then I related some information about Daredevil that I'd found when I dropped in on Foggy after visiting Con.

"Kingpin is squeezing Daredevil somehow" Foggy hadn't known how, and it was making him nuts "so he's lying low. We can't count on him for help."

"Ok," Tony said. "It might be most beneficial to see if we can artfully provoke a war between Kingpin and Silvermane. Maybe you could ask around, see where their empires intersect. We could find a weakness." I nodded.

Suddenly the door opened and an older (than me) man strode in. Tony looked irritated. "Kellan. I'm in a meeting. Knock first."

This guy--I was guessing it was Kellan Johnston, the president of the board--smirked and looked me up and down. As much as he could, any way; I'd stayed seated. "I bet," he said with a smirk. I looked at him coolly. It seemed that Thor wasn't the only one who could benefit from a visit from HR.

"I'm in a meeting," Tony repeated. "What do you want?"

Nettled, apparently by the lack of a response he expected, James said something about the board meeting the next day, and Tony nodded impatiently. "Watch yourself," James said in a faux-fatherly tone of voice. "We don't need a sexual harassment lawsuit." Tony rolled his eyes and James left.

"What's his damage?" I asked after the door closed.

"Likes being in charge of the company," he said in exasperation.

"It's your name on the building," I reminded him. He shrugged.

"I'm a little short of the majority shareholder," he said. "I mean, I need somebody on the board, somebody who will take up some of the slack. But as soon as he got the job, he started to act like he owned the place."

"And you're worried about being forced out."

"It's my company," he said after awhile. I dropped the topic, we chatted a bit more, and I went upstairs. I called Steve, we updated and chatted for awhile, then I spent some time going through the company handbook before Peter arrived. We did a patrol, didn't see much beyond a drug deal or two; Spidey webbed them and we called the cops. We ended up at the Night Nurse, where I handed her an envelope containing $20 000 in cash.

"Tell Spidey that you need to talk to me when it starts to run low," I said quietly as Peter brought in a box at her request. "Pay yourself a salary. You deserve it," I urged, then we departed before she could say anything.

Peter and I shared a cab for part of the ride. "I don't want to be nosy," he said under the blare of music from the cab's speakers, "But is there a reason you're not setting a date for your wedding?"

I looked at him in surprise. "I don't really want a wedding," I said slowly. "I just want to be married. Everybody seems to go psycho over weddings. I asked Steve to elope, but he didn't seem wild about it."

"I think Mr R-- Steve," he corrected himself, almost sweating with the effort of informality "is kind of worried that you're having second thoughts." I stared at him, aghast. Oh, shit. "He wants to have a day, a special day with you." Oh, geeze. It was a Steve-like thing to do.

"Do you have anything like a test or something tomorrow afternoon?" I asked slowly.

"No...?" he said cautiously.

"Come by the tower tomorrow afternoon," I said after checking my calendar. I'd fix it with his school.

I dragged him with me the next day when I went shopping for a dress. He seemed to have a good understanding of Steve's brain and I wanted his opinion. We found a dress without much fuss, long and floaty, with a beaded lace applique back, pretty but not too much. "He'll like that," Pete predicted confidently, and the saleswoman beamed at us.

"Your son has great taste," she said to me and winked at Peter; he blushed and didn't seem upset at her assumption. I paid for it and got him back to school in time for the last two classes; he'd only missed physics and calculus and assured me that his teachers would be ok. I went into the principal's office and made it right anyway. Then I went to the tower and called my fiance.

Can't have a wedding without a date.


	17. Others crash the party

When I hung up, Steve and I had a date and I emailed Maria, not sure if she was still here. She called me immediately and I ended up agreeing to a meeting first thing in the morning. She also forced other details out of me; I perked up when I realized this meant I could be lazier. "I love a good wedding," she said briskly. "This will be lovely, relaxed and happy."

"That sounds outstanding," I said dreamily.

Then I did work on the interns. There was a coordinator for interns elsewhere in the company, in marketing and so forth, and we'd exchanged some emails, but there wasn't a lot of overlap between the two groups. We were going to organize a party for them at the end of the semester, and we were consulting with each other regarding the selection of the new interns.

Then I got ready for the night's outing. Tony wanted us to check out activities at a few locations with an eye toward making trouble for Silvermane. Plant some cameras and listening devices, the usual. That night we started with a warehouse; I eased a skylight open and we listened for a few minutes to details of a protection scheme. We didn't have a line of sight for the people in the warehouse, so I just stuck a listening device on the inside of the window very discreetly, closed the window, and we put cameras on nearby buildings to monitor comings and goings. The next area was an underground parking garage, which was considerably more difficult to infiltrate, but we managed to plant some devices anyway. The third was a private residence; we weren't going to be able to get in, not with all the people going in and out. We couldn't even get close; there were men outside who kept their backs to the building and continually scanned the street. We set up a couple of the latest parabolic mikes, very compact and unobtrusive, on two windows where there was the most activity. I was waiting for Pete to come back after setting his, so I wasn't alarmed when somebody in a red suit dropped down beside me.

"Hey, babe, you look familiar. Did I spin you like a beanie propeller and leave you in a hotel room?" That got my attention. It certainly wasn't Peter.

"Who are you?" I inquired icily.

"I'm Deadpool," he said proudly.

I shook my head.

"The merc with the mouth! Seriously, you haven't heard of me?" He sounded like Ryan Reynolds. His mask was really expressive, although I found myself distracted by this little thing on the back of the top of his head; it was as if whoever made his costume had cut things wrong and put a corner where it shouldn't be. "I need a PR department. Like the Avengers. Crime's the disease, I'm the cure. Well, not really a cure. More like a topical ointment to treat the intimate swelling and unmentionable itch." I couldn't help myself. I let out a laugh. "You want to get lucky later? No, wait, you have no idea how many STDs I could have. But I'm copping a feel later on!"

Just then, Peter showed up. "Hey, Deadpool," he said with resignation.

"Oh, hey, my common sense is tingling!"

Before things could escalate, I eased back from the edge of the roof. The guys followed, and we slipped away. 

"So how do you know each other?" I asked when we were safely away. "And why am I finding out about you just now?" I looked at Peter, my eyes narrowing. He gulped.

"I had a can of Raid. We fought until we were too exhausted to get up," Deadpool said flippantly. I discarded the first part, thought through the second part.

"Is that why you missed two days of school three months ago?" I asked Peter, fuming. May had been worried he was getting into fights.

"Oh, hey, are you his mom?" Deadpool asked brightly. "That's cool, a family that fights crime together... does other things together. I don't know. Whatever. Anybody want to get tacos?"

"We are not done with this, young man," I promised Peter. "And you." I point at Deadpool.

"Oh, hey, look at the time. Yeppers! It's not that I don't enjoy our little get-togethers, Spidey, but bringing your MILF into it is just weird. BRB!" And off trots Deadpool.

"I don't think he's an appropriate sort of person for you to be working with," I said, glowering.

"Well, the guy is indestructible," Peter said meekly. "He can survive anything, including regenerating parts."

"He's going to get you into trouble," I predicted flatly. "You don't regenerate, unless you've been hiding something?" We went back to the tower. Maybe Peter needed to talk to a guy. I wanted Steve to talk some sense into him, but since he wasn't available, Tony would have to do.

I explained the problem to Tony and went to change. I could hear him talking as I came down the hall. "So you've gotta wonder if the serum affected everything," Tony said, a frown in his voice. "It must have. How else could he keep up up with her in bed?"

"Errr..." Peter said.

"Do you want me to tell you he pops little blue pills like candy?" I asked, coming into the big room.

"Yeah," Tony said immediately.

"Tough. I don't know what, if anything, the serum did for him there since I have no baseline for comparison. And it's nothing you need to know about, and this conversation is inappropriate." I looked, and the bottle of bourbon was considerably lower than it had been yesterday.

"What do you know about Deadpool?" I asked Peter, getting to my problem with him first.

"He's helped me out a couple of times on small stuff, but he really is a mercenary, and he's got some really jazzed up healing powers. I saw him take a dagger out of his head. He made a joke and the wound healed itself."

"Are there other masked people you've been consorting with that I don't know about?" I crossed my arms.

"The Batman," he said meekly. "But he told me to go back to school and leave the crime fighting to the grownups." I kind of liked that guy. "He's gizmo-based instead of powered, doesn't have much of a sense of humor. There's this guy Wolverine. Also a fast healer, but he also has these metal blades that extend out of his knuckles. Scary, not funny. He's part of a team called the X Men. I haven't met the others." I looked over at Tony, who had passed out. Shit.

"Look, Peter, do you understand why I'm concerned?"

"I do, but I'm careful, Emma," he said stubbornly. Shit, shit.

I sent him home in a cab, took away the bourbon and the glass and covered Tony with a throw before going to my room. I locked the door behind me and called Steve back. I could hear the sleepiness and fatigue in his voice and apologized for calling.

"I'm always glad to hear from you, sweetheart," he said, yawning. "What's up?" I smiled at the modern slang.

"Well, the good news first. Maria is on the job and promises the wedding of our dreams," I said. "One question that apparently has to be resolved immediately is what the color scheme is supposed to be. And we need to pick invitations fast, but that can wait until I'm done here, I guess."

"I like blue," he said after a moment of reflection. "Or red."

"How about white and blue?" I asked. No way was the wedding going to be that patriotic. He agreed happily.

"Now for the less exciting part. We're gathering information on Silvermane, that part of the thing is going well. The problem is that Tony's drinking a lot. And Peter has some new and not so suitable friends I just found out about." Steve started to laugh.

"If you could hear yourself... not about Stark, but Peter." I grumbled. "It's cute," he said fondly. "It sounds like this is turning into a bigger op than we'd thought, so I'm coming out tomorrow. I'll bring Sigurd, the twins, and Bucky."

"I'm not sure about Bucky," I confessed. "Tony might think you're ganging up on him."

"It'll just be me and Stark," Steve promised. "But Bucky's a good man in a fight." I could not argue with that. After some chat about Deadpool, we hung up and I felt a lot better knowing that Steve would talk to Tony. I got ready for bed, but I was restless. Tony said the board meeting went fine, but James had been jerking his chain. I thought for a bit, then queried Friday. The tower AI searched the public records for Stark employees who had declared bankruptcy recently or who had filed for it, then emailed me the list of names. I dictated letters, had Friday print them, and stuffed envelopes. I wanted to get moving on this, so I went downstairs and made the rounds of employee mailboxes. Since Stark Industries wasn't a public company, valuation of the shares would be difficult, but I offered a fair price for their employee shares based on information in the financial papers and inflated the price some so that the offer would be more attractive. Tony owned 45% of the stock. If everyone sold--and that was unlikely--I'd have slightly over 10%. Between the two of us, we would have the majority of the stock and that would ease his worries. I thought about selling them to him, but decided not to. Tony had a self-destructive streak, and this way my votes could keep him in check if something bad happened. I went to bed finally and got a few hours sleep.

Tony was irritable and hungover when I went out in the main room. I made him chug water to rehydrate and wash down the aspirin, made him some toast, and when he finally responded to my question, made him go to bed for a few more hours rest. Then I asked Friday to let him know when he woke up again that Steve was arriving with reinforcements and asked if he could do some research on Deadpool, Batman, and Wolverine and the X Men. I wasn't sure if he'd remember the conversation we'd had, and this would be one way of checking.

Eliza had made a fresh pot of coffee, so I was set for a bit. I had run out of work by noon and was spinning in my chair again, trying to think about other ways to attack the problem. "Emma," Eliza said, opening the door and sounding a little breathless, "your fiance is here." Yep. Steve will do that to a woman. I immediately stopped spinning and hopped up, smiling hugely. I sighed in pleasure as we kissed; I felt anything was better if he was with me.

"Want to get some lunch?" Steve invited. "The jet wasn't serving anything." Darn. Lunch for lunch. Still, I needed to eat, too. We walked out and Steve went on to call the elevator. I stopped by Eliza's desk to let her know where I was going.

"I understand why you don't say much about your fiance," she said quietly. But still starstruck. "Captain America!"

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything," I started, and she smiled.

"I'm discreet. I won't say anything to anybody," she assured me, and shooed me off for lunch. Then I had to pick up some suits I'd had tailored to keep here and had Steve go stock up on stuff for himself, too. I wasn't going to be stuck out here once or twice a month all by myself. And I made a run through lingerie, too. Just for fun.

When we got back, Eliza handed me a stack of letters and told me that I had nothing else on the docket for the day. She was not surprised when I said I was taking the rest of the day off. She probably thought I'd be spending it bed with my fiance. Alas, no.

Upstairs, Steve was hanging up my suits and looking at the lingerie. After greeting Sigurd properly, I promised that I'd make sure everything fit later, and we went out to brief the others. Tony was at work, but I still didn't mention the drinking to them. I went over the scope of the Silvermane problem as we knew it and added the variables of the masks that I'd met. Peter arrived after school; it was a day he was legitimately supposed to be here for his internship. Friday had started to provide data on the masks.

It was rather disturbing to hear about the experimentation Deadpool and Wolverine were probably subjected to--there was some conjecture, as not many people would admit to having knowledge about that particular governmental program. Either that or they were dead. "They're Canadians?" asked Peter. "Huh."

"Canada has a dark side," I quipped, and we moved on. Steve had a funny look on his face.

"I know that guy," he said, pointing to Wolverine. "I met him during the war." Bucky looked at him in confusion, just like the rest of us. "He wasn't one of the Commandos, but we worked with him on a few missions, just before you fell from the train." Bucky shook his head.

"I don't remember," he said. "But there's a lot I've forgotten." A wave of sorrow passed over his face, but it was gone quickly.

"He's got a temper," Steve said. "And that was before the addition of those claws."

Then we moved on to Batman, who seemed to specialize in the real psycho villains, and seemed a little psycho at times himself. As Pete had said, he didn't seem to have special powers, just clever tools. That would cost a lot of money. I made a mental note to track the city's most wealthy men; the money had to come from somewhere. Peter looked a little taken aback by the information on his three new acquaintances, and I hoped that would help him be more cautious.

Tony came in, looking a lot better than he had that morning, and briefed us on what new intelligence we had from our surveillance equipment. It looked like Silvermane would be going to the warehouse not tonight, but the next evening. We had data on ownership of the warehouse as well as the floor plan. The area was being set up apparently to cut heroin and repackage it for dealers and he wanted to view the operation to make sure it was what he expected. Tony and Steve put their heads together to start planning the op, and Peter, Pietro and Wanda started to organize dinner. Bucky was called upon to work his magic on the grill, and I finally got time to look at my letters.

As I expected, they were responses to my offer, mostly handwritten. They must not have wanted to risk anybody seeing personal correspondence in any printer tray. Most of them accepted my offer and some provided names of others who might be willing to sell. I had 8%, which is what I needed, but it would be good to have some extra padding too. I went to my room and had Friday print out several more letters, which I hurried up and delivered. There was a very simple procedure for transferring stock between employees, according to the handbook, so I printed out the form, filled it out, and those forms went out too to be signed by the sellers. Payment would be made as soon as the forms were certified by the office.

I got back just in time for dinner, and we had a pretty relaxing evening before Peter went home. Tony went back down to his office, and Steve and I went to bed early. Afterward, I told him about buying the stock and how I planned to use it. He approved, and we decided not to say anything to Tony about anything until I had actual ownership of the shares.

I slept really well that night, reassured by Steve being with me, right where he belonged.


	18. The great raid

The next day, I took some time to procure some samples of wedding invitations from a really good stationer in the city and we selected one that had a spare, elegant typeface (not script). Steve seemed really pleased that I had taken the initiative, which made me feel really bad about my reluctance. Spurred on by my desire to show more enthusiasm for our special day, I took Maria with me to the stationers and arranged for confidentiality in the production of the invitations. When we got back, I also had fifteen samples of different shades and tones of blue, seven wedding magazines, a pretty pair of shoes to wear with the dress (a medium-blue velvet, a fairly low heel height of two inches) and recommendations for florists. Maria would pick up and bring the flowers with her to the wedding. That afternoon I lined up an appointment with catering to discuss the menu, started a secret Pinterest board for wedding ideas and lined up Natasha as my maid of honor. Not only was Natasha a good friend, but I completely trusted her ability to smooth things out if there was a wrinkle. Not that there would be. The planning for this thing would be as tight as Steve's butt and Steve would have his perfect day if I personally had to maim somebody to ensure it happening.

Steve looked a little surprised as I staggered in with the shopping and wedding-related stuff, and quite bemused as I arranged the samples of blue for his consideration. He was baffled by the choices, but ultimately we chose a blue that turned out to almost exactly match his eyes. Fancy that. I put the appointment with catering on his calendar and reminded him that I needed to get the size for his wedding band. He smiled, and playing with my ring, asked if I would mind if he got me a regular wedding band since it would be difficult to find one that would look good attached to my engagement ring. I agreed immediately and indicated that I liked the thought of a plain metal band. Then I produced a checklist, which I had divided into things he needed to do, things that I needed to do, and things we needed to do, and asked for his opinions on the flowers and decor. He started to look a little alarmed when I asked him to look through the magazines and decide on the suit he wanted to wear and he said he had a strategy session with Tony before I could ask his thoughts on wedding cake flavors.

I emailed May to give her a heads up that I was getting married and to ask if Peter could come out with the others (Maria, Eliza) for the wedding. Then I had to buckle down and do some actual work. Eliza hand-carried in a file for me. "Mr Stark asked me to bring this to you," she said, and glancing at it I saw that it was specifications for a scaled-up arc reactor engine for a high performance car along with the final lab report on the motorcycle engine. It wasn't what I expected.

"What's going on in there? Where is Tony, anyway?" I asked her.

"Oh, he and Captain Rogers are in his office. Mr Stark just ordered up a snack and the captain was looking for a ball game on the tv," she said helpfully. My mouth dropped open.

Strategy my ass.

Also, where does Tony get the snacks? Did Eliza know?

Eliza brought in the mail, which included an invitation to speak at a dinner for successful New York women. Eliza explained that it was a group of influential women who both networked at these meetings as well as mentored up-and-coming women in a variety of fields. She strongly urged me to accept the invitation, which I did, and we arranged my schedule so that I would be working in the city at the time so I didn't have to make a special trip. I asked her to find out what they wanted me to speak about before conveying my acceptance as I didn't want to show up prepared to talk about non-proprietary science stuff and be expected to talk about wrangling interns instead. Or vice versa.

When five o'clock rolled around, it was a little hard to change gears and focus on the op for that evening. Especially since I didn't know what that entailed. Nobody was up in the residence, so I took a little nap. I woke up when Steve sat on the bed. I assumed it was Steve, anyway, I didn't open my eyes, and curled around him.

"Come on, sweetheart, it's time for dinner. And the mission briefing!" he said coaxingly, like this last thing was a treat. I moaned and made him a counteroffer.

"Damn, Emma, we don't have time for that," he said wistfully, so I got up, grumbling.

Dinner was a carefully balanced selection of lean protein, veggies, and whole-grain rolls, with fruit and cheese for dessert. It had Steve's imprint all over it. My body might be a temple, but I didn't have a problem with offering the gods a sacrifice of yummy baked goods. I staged a mutiny with some cookies I found in the kitchen, and he looked irritated. I shrugged and swallowed the bite of cookie.

Steve activated the 3D projector and brought up the blueprints of the warehouse where the action was shortly going to be. We carefully went over how we'd make our entry and engage Silvermane and his people. The objective was to capture Silvermane and make him tell us why he was after Peter, and if we couldn't do that, then we were going to try to take him out and do as much damage to his organization as possible. And that was it for the briefing. Beyond the initial engagement, any plan wouldn't survive because the other side would have plans too. We had our entry and our goal. It was enough.

We had a bit of a wait until we heard activity pick up at the warehouse, then we scattered to suit up. Steve helped me into my suit, then had a little trouble getting into his; tac fabrics are not kind to erections. Finally he picked up his shield and I grabbed my pike, and we met the others in the common room before leaving for the warehouse. We made sure that the air filters were in place and held ourselves outside until Silvermane himself showed up, listened as he looked at the setup and examined the heroin that was going to be cut and repackaged, then struck. Steve, Tony, Jim, and Sam came in through the skylights; the rest of us came in through windows and doors. I'd talked with Bucky and he advised blunting the edges of Nike so that I wouldn't be shearing off body parts. It was sharp enough to cut to the bone, but I agreed this occasion didn't really call for lopping off limbs. It was harder than I'd expected to get rid of the mindset of the arena, and I trusted Bucky to keep me on the straight and narrow for what was appropriate against the common criminal. I might have gotten some goon's trigger finger when I first entered, though.

After that, it was a whirlwind of activity. I was shot a couple of times, which hurt like, a lot, but I didn't feel anything break, so ultimately it was ok. My area had been cleared, but it was difficult to see clearly; particulates from gunfire and in some places where bags of heroin had been shot through clouded the air and some of the lights had been shot out. I saw, across the floor, Steve and Tony engaging Silvermane. It was astonishing to see the difficulty they were having controlling him, but Silvermane's metal body was a lot taller than expected, almost two feet taller than Steve. I stopped in a corner and spent some time on the big blade of the poleaxe to refine the edge again. Then I jumped into battle behind the cyborg and cut through his legs. Or tried to; unexpectedly, the metal in the legs was tougher than I anticipated and I only got through one. I mean, it was enough; he'd been supporting most of his weight on his back leg and he fell down, but I was really surprised. I'd have to take the leg piece and examine it. I also severed the right arm to limit his defense; I did it above the elbow so I could study the mechanics of the thing too. I picked up my study items and retreated as Steve and Tony pounced. I heard the sirens and heard Steve tell Pete to hit the road. We stood down when the police showed up to make the bust, and I noted Steve and Tony arguing with the officer in charge about interrogation. The rest of us were shown the door as a captain arrived rather belatedly. I went to where I'd stashed the mechanical limbs, took a metal sample, and photographed the innards as best as I could, then pointed them out to an officer.

We were tossed, politely, from the warehouse and Steve and Tony's offers to see Silvermane to the police station were rebuffed. As we walked back to the vehicles, Bucky shook his head. "I hate wearing masks," he said, and pitched his into a dumpster.

"Better than breathing in heroin," Pietro pointed out, and Bucky grimaced. As we fastened our seatbelts and we started off, I noticed that we weren't going back to the tower.

"Um...Tony, where are we off to?"

"I thought maybe some schwarma," he said flippantly. On the seat beside me, Sigurd barked reprovingly, saving me the trouble. Tony sighed. "Silvermane has a secret facility where they're doing DNA work. We've got a little window before he breaks out of police custody." Ah. 

"So what's the plan?" Wanda asked. "We have a plan, right?"

"I am the plan," Tony said. "It's what I do. Miracles of destruction on command."

"Or alternately, there have to be gas lines going into the place," Steve said wearily.

"That was going to be part of it, yes," Tony said testily.

When we rolled up, I couldn't detect any heat signatures, so we skulked up to the door, avoiding the cameras as much as possible, and Steve broke us in. It wasn't as large a facility as I'd expected, but Silvermane had dumped money into it. The instrumentation was top-notch and there hadn't been enough time for the shiny to wear off everything yet. Tony popped out hard drives from the computers, then we left and Pietro ran around opening the gas lines. We waited five minutes, then Tony set off a remote detonator as we drove away. We could feel the concussion from the explosion a block away.

On the way back, I started to feel the aches from the fight at the warehouse as the adrenaline rush receded. Tony started scanning the drives immediately with help from Peter, who met us at the tower, so I went to take a bath, lots of Epsom salts for the bruises. It was a big bathtub, so Steve joined me and we talked about the op. "I'm getting old," Steve complained as we dried off. "These late nights are killers."

"It's not the hour, it's the company," I quipped, and he grinned. Then we hurried and got dressed since Tony was demanding a meeting. We went ahead and made our formal report, then Tony reported what he and Pete had found in their preliminary survey.

"It wasn't just Pete they were after," Tony said briskly. "He was collecting samples from everybody with extra oomph. There's a spreadsheet with the names of all the Avengers, those X-men, Pete's mercenary friend, all the street-level masks. Names, aliases, addresses, powers. Collection dates for some people. He didn't have Pete's home address or alias, and only some of his powers. Emma's name, address, and powers aren't known. Barton's address isn't known, so the intelligence isn't perfect." We discussed the raid, then there was a soft sort of "blapping" sound and Friday broke in with a report that the criminal Silvermane had escaped from police custody. Steve looked at the ceiling and Tony shook his head, then we discussed some more.

"Silvermane has himself a metalsmith," I reported when it was my turn to give my impressions. "I don't know if he or she is like me, obviously, not having met the individual, but the metal that comprises the cyborg limbs is really out there." I paused and thought about it. "It's not an approach I'd have used, because I wouldn't have thought about it. It's some different metals and different ratios than what I'm used to. Obviously, this is going to need study."

The next morning, I was up bright and early, hating life. That feeling lessened after the second big cup of coffee, and I finished up a few things with Eliza. We were set until the next time I came out, and I left on the jet back to Seattle with the others. Sigurd slept the whole way with his head on my lap and I slept the whole way with my head on Steve's shoulder.

I spent most of the next month head down in the lab; between casting the new engine and analyzing the scrap of metal I'd gotten from Silvermane, it was an intense and finicky period of time. The analysis was the fun part; everybody has preferences in the way they approach a problem and here was something quite different in terms of preferences in metals and minerals and construction, if you will. It wasn't hard to deduce the identity or ratio of the elements in the alloy; it took longer to figure how it was made and longer still to improve on it. It was very hard and durable, but it tend toward brittleness. I made myself yet another poleaxe to try it out on. With my improvements, I was able to dice the original sample.

On one of Tony's returns to the Seattle facility, I told him what I'd done with the stock. He was pissed that I wouldn't sell to him and insulted by my reasoning why not and left unexpectedly the next day in a huff. I was sorry about it but I wasn't about to relent.

And he ignored me the next week when I went out for that dinner with the womens' organization. It was interesting; there were women from all over the city and greater metropolitan area, with several interesting speakers in a variety of fields. I spoke about challenges in scientific research and it seemed to be received well. In the ladies' room, I unexpectedly ran into Pepper Potts.

I looked at her in the mirror while I was touching up my lipstick. "I was very surprised to hear that you were working for Stark Tech again," she said without preamble, but also not aggressively.

I sighed. "I didn't mean to, but...the opportunity was too good. And Tony was persuasive. Waved a lab and a great budget under my nose."

She laughed. "I'd have said he'd have turned on the charm."

"Charm is nice, but a kick-ass lab is better. He does know his target," I said, and smiled back at her. "I heard your company just posed a five percent gain, so congratulations."

The smile faded off her face. "It wasn't too hard. After Tony, everything else is less of a challenge."

I tucked the lipstick back into my purse and checked around. A miracle of sorts; we were the only ones there. "I don't want to interfere in your business, but I do want to give you some food for thought," I said, seizing the opportunity. "Tony needs somebody to run the business. He's good at it, but he wants to be innovating and Avenging, not always in that order. He's having problems with the board. Between the two of us, we have the controlling share of the business, so he can't be forced out again, but he's pissed about that too. If you want a challenge, I'd suggest contacting him and getting back on that horse. And congratulations on your engagement," I said, looking at the enormous diamond on her left hand. Her mouth hung open. I resisted the urge to tip it closed, smiled, and beat a retreat.

Tony was so going to kill me.

For the rest of that visit, I interviewed likely candidates for the next year's science/tech interns, then skedaddled back home.

Four days later, Tony burst into the house during dinner. "I should fire you for sticking your nose into business that is none of yours," he said cuttingly, not quite shouting. "This is my company. I make the decisions."

"I didn't hire anybody. I made a suggestion. She could have ignored it. You could have said no." I stood up and mirrored his posture, feet braced, fists on hips. We stared at each other. "When does she start?"

"Next month," he said eventually, and the tension faded some. He still wasn't really friendly, so I retreated upstairs. The boys talked downstairs for hours. I was already asleep when Steve finally came up.

"That really pushed the boundary," Steve murmured as he cuddled up to me.

"I know," I muttered. "It was interfering of me. But it will solve some problems for him, take a lot of pressure off."

"Did you know she's engaged?"

"Yeah, but that might be for the best. Tony's death on relationships. And she's not like Laura Barton; she doesn't support his Avenging. He'll never be able to stop. His gift and his curse is that he wants to save people."

"Why is that, do you think?" He pulled the blanket up and laced our fingers.

"Because he wasn't able to save his parents. Other people. Because he can't always save himself. Who knows? Maybe Con could figure him out, I can't. He's a complicated man." I went back to sleep.

I knew I'd overstepped, so I focused on other matters. My work. The wedding. I took my lingerie and shoes back to New York for the fitting of the dress. Maria was like the Terminator of wedding coordinators, and had everything under control; we worked seamlessly on every detail. Steve wanted two groomsmen plus his best man, so I added Wanda and Con as bridesmaids without complaint. Clint volunteered to do my makeup and after Natasha did a pretty updo, she was on for hair. We had the menu and made our cake choices in a timely manner. Wrangling my attendants was more work. All three of them had different body types and it was very hard to find a dress that looked equally good on all three, so I assigned Natasha the blue Steve and I had chosen and the other a slightly lighter shade that looked better on them anyway. Then each of them chose the dress style that she liked best, as long as they were short. They all ended up with dresses that were similar--floaty skirts like mine, fitted bodices; the only differences really were in the shape of the necklines and the sleeves. I chose a heavy Comfort Fit platinum band for Steve and had it engraved inside--all my love, forever and the date. I got the ladies pearl strands with simple pearl and sapphire earrings and sparkly diamond earrings for myself, picked up a plain satin garter since Steve wanted to toss it, and a comfortable suit to travel in. Peter was set to come out; the invitation included May as well, but she had to decline since her work was going on a company retreat that week. Steve was making an unattractive habit of running away every time I approached him with a piece of paper in my hand, but I always caught up with him in the end. He had to sleep sometime.

And, finally, it was time.


	19. The wedding

We flew to the site in two quinjets, arriving so that it was late afternoon by the time we went to pick up the wedding license. It went off without a hitch; the clerk's eyes were huge when he recognized Steve, but he was discreet--at least while we were there. On the way to the site, I asked him one last time. "Are you ready for this? Because this is for the rest of our lives." He took his eyes off the road just long enough to smile at me.

"I feel like I've been waiting for this my whole life. I've never been more ready for anything."

At the site, we separated to different parts of the house to get ready. Clint swooped in to do my make up, and a very artful job he did. Then he retreated as I got dressed and Natasha did my hair. I put in my earrings, got approval from Clint and my bridal party, then Clint hopped out the window, slid down the shingles to the edge of the roof, dropped to the ground, and strolled off to take his seat with his family. I laughed as Natasha efficiently put the screen back in the window, Con blotted my face, and I picked up my bouquet, a simple thing with white and watercolor blue flowers. We went downstairs, Wanda holding the slight train for me, then they arranged everything before leaving me to walk down the aisle. I followed them and had the very distinct pleasure of seeing Steve waiting for me at the end, looking handsome and nervous in a dark gray suit with blue silk tie. His face lit up when he saw me, and Bucky muttered something to him that made him grin. When I got to the end of the aisle, he put out his hand. I took it and handed Natasha my flowers.

Tony smirked at us. I ran through my checklist. I'd seen the paperwork that allowed him to officiate, so there wouldn't be a question about the legality of it all. He'd promised to keep it pretty clean; Clint and Laura's kids were here in addition to Peter. What else? Well, there was nothing I could do about it now. Sigurd and Torburn, off to the side at the front and wearing new collars for the occasion, woofed.

"I'd like to welcome everybody to Emma and Steve's wedding," he began, like he was the ringmaster and this his personal circus. Well, maybe. "You're their nearest and dearest, and the day wouldn't be complete without you here to celebrate with us.

"I've known Rogers since he was thawed, Emma more recently. But I can honestly say that my life has not been the same since Cap came out of the ice. I've suffered through an alien invasion, an encounter with a homicidal AI that I might have been responsible for, a period of estrangement over principles, and ultimately we got the band back together again. That's all pretty much public record. Since I've met Emma, she has turned my life upside down just as thoroughly, although in a more private and irritating way. Since many of those incidents ended up in shouting or me with inappropriate facial hair, I'm going to just gloss over that and state that she is always challenging me and encouraging me. Both of them have pushed me to be a better person, which is occasionally an enormous pain in the ass, but overall, I'm grateful that they care enough to try.

"When Steve met Emma, he was apparently caught in a booby trap and dangling from a tree. Although I wasn't there to see it, it's an image that I treasure. He was kind of responsible for getting her kicked out of two different countries, so you have to kind of wonder why she kept coming back for more, but I think we're all grateful for her possible brain damage. In ways both large and small, she's become indispensable to all of us, not just Steve. She's the heart of our group and she's made it her mission to bring out the best in all of us as well as providing us with us with the metal goods literally of our dreams. Cap is our moral compass. There are a lot of reasons why he's a legend, but his unfailing dedication to doing the right thing and helping others sets a powerful example that you can't help but want to live up to.

"You might think that the two of them together would be rather unbearably sanctimonious, but together, they're even more powerful than they are separate. She tells it like she sees it, but her heart is kind and she always gives a spoonful of sugar with the medicine. She will give you everything she has to those in need. Forget the shirt off her back, she'd give you years of life. She makes him laugh and gives him something to look forward to and a home. He doesn't talk as much, but his dedication and devotion are as much a part of him as his shield, which is not just a defensive weapon but a life philosophy. He gives her understanding, an unbreakable shelter, and a life companion as steadfast as she is. It's been...awe-inspiring to see their love grow.

"His first proposal was incredibly poorly timed and about as unromantic as you could possibly imagine, but we're all glad he upped his game the second time around. A marriage is a solemn business. It's the building of a life together, a significant achievement. The twining together of two lives to make one that is mutually supportive and nurturing, a thing of beauty.

"This is what I saw in Rogers when he started to fall in love with Emma.

"Looking For Your Face", by Rumi

"From the beginning of my life I have been looking for your face, but today I have seen it. Today I have seen the charm, the beauty, the unfathomable grace of the face that I was looking for. Today I have found you, and those who laughed and scorned me yesterday are sorry that they were not looking as I did. I am bewildered by the magnificence of your beauty, and wish to see you with a hundred eyes. My heart has burned with passion and has searched forever for this wondrous beauty that I now behold. I am ashamed to call this love human, and afraid of God to call it divine. Your fragrant breath, like the morning breeze, has come to the stillness of the garden. You have breathed new life into me. I have become your sunshine, and also your shadow. My soul is screaming in ecstasy. Every fiber of my being is in love with you. Your effulgence has lit a fire in my heart, and you have made radiant for me the earth and sky. My arrow of love has arrived at the target. I am in the house of mercy, and my heart is a place of prayer."

"And love has softened our Emma. Someone has seen not just her ferocious intellect but the shyer compassion and faith and bravery and heart. 

"I Love You", by Roy Croft

"I love you, not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you, not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you, for the part of me that you bring out. I love you, for putting your hand into my heaped-up heart, and passing over all the foolish, weak things that you can't help dimly seeing there, and for drawing out, into the light, all the beautiful belongings that no one else had looked quite far enough to find. I love you, because you are helping me to make of the lumber of my life, not a tavern, but a temple. Out of the works of my every day, not a reproach, but a song. I love you, because you have done more than any creed could have done to make me good, and more than any fate could have done to make me happy. You have done it without a touch, without a word, without a sign. You have done it by being yourself. Perhaps that is what being a friend means, after all."

Tony cleared his throat. "Rings, please," he demanded imperiously. Natasha and Bucky handed them over, and he looked at them and smiled. "All right, Rogers, you're up." He handed him a ring.

"I, Steven Grant Rogers, take you, Emma Grace Harrington, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death does us part." He slid the ring onto my finger and I let out a little breath. He squeezed my hand and smiled.

"Emma," Tony directed. I smiled at him and repeated the same vows, and took Steve's hand, sliding the ring onto his finger. I didn't realize I was trembling until I stopped.

"By the power vested in me by the State of Idaho, I now pronounce you husband and wife," Tony said grandly. Then he sighed. "I understand it's customary for there to be kissing at this point...go ahead," he grumbled. I smiled as Steve bent his head for a light kiss. At that moment, confetti cannons went off. I flinched, but Steve pushed me down, standing over me, turning and assessing potential threats.

Steve's face burned red when white confetti drifted down around us and he helped me to my feet. Tony rolled his eyes and looked skyward, and I stood on tiptoe to bring Steve's face down where I could get at his lips for our kiss. Our guests cheered and laughed, and I put my hand on his arm as we walked together up the aisle, Bucky and Natasha, Wanda and Sam, Con and Phil following. Sif would have been there too, but she and Thor were on Asgard and had been for some time.

The wedding photographer/videographer worked for Avenger Tech in imaging and did wedding photography as a sideline. He seemed pretty unflappable as he led the wedding party away for some pictures. He was taking some pictures of the attendants to start with, and Steve crouched down and brushed at the grass stains on my skirt.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he apologized.

"It's fine," I said. "You can barely tell that they're there because the fabric is so lightweight." In an effort to change the subject, I pulled off the plain shiny ring and looked for the inscription that I was sure was there. 'My love, always' it read. I blinked rapidly and smiled up at him. "Look at yours," I urged, and he did. 

He read the inscription and touched my face gently. "What's that little spot there?" he asked, and I smiled.

"Well, after I bought the ring, I started to wonder if I shouldn't have made it instead--" he made a negating motion and I caught his hand. "So before Thor went back to Asgard, I asked a favor and he let me try. That's a tiny piece of Mjolnir." He looked aghast. "Everybody's heard about that competition you guys had after the party when Ultron made his big entrance, how the guys all gave it a go and you made it wiggle. I bet that you could have picked it up, but you didn't. Looks like I was right."

"You usually are," he said wryly. "Stark had made a big deal about what it could mean if somebody other than Thor could lift the hammer, so I decided not to do it. How'd you get the piece of metal?"

I beamed at him. "I showed it an image of me setting it on the inside of your wedding band, and a little sliver sort of moved, so I removed it carefully and put it in. It doesn't have the worthiness enchantment; that apparently stays with the hammer, but it still has that almost-awareness that the hammer does."

'You amaze me." He lifted my hand and kissed it, just above his ring. Then it was time for our pictures with the others and then pictures of just us.

When we rejoined our guests, Tony poked Peter to his feet, and Peter said, nervously but loudly, "I present Captain and Mrs Steve Rogers to the company for the first time!" I stopped long enough to kiss his cheek and Steve shook his hand. Steve seated me at the head table and dinner was served. There were some toasts afterward, then we cut the cake: a rich vanilla with lemon curd in one tier and peach and ginger preserves in the other. Delicious. Then there was the bouquet toss--Con caught it--and the thing with the garter, which Bucky ended up with. The first dance was with Steve, of course, the second with Peter, and the third with Tony, where I made sure he knew how appreciative I was of his efforts with the ceremony.

"I'm sorry about the cannon," he said sheepishly, and I smiled.

"He is a combat veteran," I said gently. "He wasn't expecting his wedding ceremony to go boom." I laughed. "Although maybe he should have; with you, the motto should always be 'expect the unexpected.'"

The dancing was just getting good when Tony came up and murmured that the media was closing in. I went to change and our guests threw rose petals as we left. We made it to the quinjet without encountering anybody, and Steve took us up.

"Where are we going?" I asked once the flight had leveled out. He put it on autopilot and came back.

"Thailand first, then Angkor Wat." My eyes got big. "Is that ok? I just remembered how, when we were leaving after you made my shield, that you said you wanted to go to Asia. And after you'd joined up, you and Tony talked about Angkor Wat one time, what it was like; you said you wanted to see it someday."

"It's perfect," I said, and kissed him. I shook my head. "It's one of the few places that makes me not want to stay in the hotel room for all of the honeymoon." He looked smug, and we passed the time until he had to take the controls for landing outside of Bangkok. 

Jetlagged, we did spend the first couple of days in bed, but after that, we went to the Grand Palace and toured the canals, Hua Hin and the 11-tier Pa La-u Waterfall, and stopped at Kanchanaburi, where the Death Railway made infamous in "The Bridge Over the River Kwai" is located. From there we went to Khao Yai National Park where we were able to take an extended tour and see the wild elephants during the day and the tigers, after darkness fell. Then we crossed into Cambodia and drove to Siem Reap. We went to Angkor Wat early the next morning and saw the sun rise over the exquisite complex. The moat was full from the rains. There were few tourists, no doubt due to the suffocating heat and humidity, but the site was so entrancing that I barely noticed until we were on our way back after a day of exploration. The next day we went back to Bankok, and came home the day after.

Somewhat to my bemusement, everybody actually wanted to see the photos we'd taken, so we had a little party, Peter flew out, and Sif and Thor were back. To my amazement and pleasure, Loki was allowed to attend the party for the slideshow and cake part, and it was gratifying to see that our visitors were as entranced by the scenery and buildings as we were. We'd gotten our friends little souvenirs and passed those out too. I'd gotten Peter a colorful tropical wood carving of an elephant, trunk up for luck.

The video of the ceremony was ready when we got home as were sheets of proofs. "Tony did a really fine job. Much more restrained, overall, than I kind of expected," I said, snuggling up to Steve, and he agreed. Watching the recording, I was struck by the panic on Steve's face when the confetti cannons went off. Looked like he still had some work to do on his PTSD. "What did Bucky say to you?" I asked as the camera followed me down the aisle. I liked the back of my dress.

"That I was marrying up," he said with a laugh. "He was sure right about that." I snorted.

"I'm the lucky one," I said, and fed him a piece of apple. It was a little irritating how he preferred healthy snacks; I always felt a little guilty if I wanted candy instead. The things I do for love.

The grass stains were barely visible on the dress in the pictures, which I was glad to see; you had to look for them and I didn't want Steve to be embarrassed again. The photographer had done a beautiful job and captured some wonderful moments, including one of Natasha and Bucky; his metal arm was around her back in a light embrace and he was touching her face gently with his fingers. Her expression, unguarded for once, was radiant. In addition to the images we chose for our wedding album, I also ordered photographs of everybody else that were special so I could send them out with the thank you cards; we hadn't needed presents, so people had made donations to charities. The USO, Puppies Behind Bars, the DAV Charitable Service Trust, and the Fisher House Foundation had been specified. When we got the photos, I put them in frames and and hand-delivered them with the thank you notes where possible.

Bucky looked surprised at the present and unwrapped it carefully. He looked at the photograph in amazement and touched the glass lightly. "I knew Natasha before all this," he said so softly I could barely hear him. "In Russia. When I was out for a mission once, they didn't put me back in cryo right away. They sent me to the Red Room to train the women. She was my best pupil. She seduced me; it was part of her training, and I was under orders to do what I had to to help her training. The seduction tactic depends a lot on confidence, and she didn't have much back then. I remember teaching her how to kill during the day and fucking her at night." He shook his head. "Then...nothing. They put me back in the tube. She said that they put me back when they found out that there was more than blood and sex between us. I don't remember that. They wanted her to marry a hotshot pilot for the PR. He was a complete ass. When she asked where I was, they showed her and she freaked out. She didn't know about the cryo or that I was just defrosted from time to time." He sighed. "It bothers her a little that I can't remember that if I can remember other stuff about that time."

"I have no idea what to say about that," I said after a moment. I just felt so bad for them both. I sat beside him in silence, my hand over his metal one, until he had to leave for a mission briefing.


	20. The unexpected

We'd been worried about the press from the wedding, but we stayed tight in the compound when we weren't on missions, and after a big initial hoopla, it did die down. There was a brief but intense scavenge for information about me, and some not so pleasant late-night jokes about the age difference, but I stopped paying attention.

Summer moved into autumn, then winter. Steve came back from a mission with an abdominal wound that wasn't healing well. I didn't even have to nag him to get him to go to the doctor; I was worried that somebody had developed some kind of chemical or biological agent to interrupt his augmented healing ability.

The results from the exam were not what I was expecting.

"It looks like the abilities from the serum are starting to wear off," the doctor said gently. "For whatever reason, the enhancements aren't permanent, although everybody thought that they would be." He shook his head and looked at the lab results a moment longer. "There wasn't any way to tell. For this particular ...project, you were the baseline."

"So what does this mean for me?" Steve asked after a desperate moment.

"Your speed, strength, agility, healing, all of it is going to fade away. Is fading. There's no way to precisely predict the speed of the decline, but based on the data points that we have here compared to your last physical, my best guess is that it will be a matter of months." After a moment, he added absurdly, "I'm sorry."

"Isn't there anything that can be done?" I asked.

He shook his head. "If we had the serum, we could try administering it again, but we don't. It would be a long shot anyway; the Captain is almost a hundred years old."

"I saw an earlier version of the formula," I blurted out, and recited the list of reactants that I had seen in the secret lab in Austria.

"The earlier formulas weren't successful," Steve murmured, taking my hand, and the doctor said that the formula couldn't be reconstructed just from what I'd seen.

It took us a couple of days to process the information before we told the others. Now that I was looking, I could see his hair silvering at the temples, some lines developing on his face.

Three weeks later, he had to stop going out on missions.

Not quite two months later, he had hospice care. I was shocked at the speed of his decline. I thought there would be more months.

Two weeks after that, shortly after a last dose of medication, his once vital body wasted and frail, his memory fading, asthma having returned along with other problems that he'd endured pre-serum, he let his last gentle breath leave. They removed his body immediately. Somehow I made it onto campus. They found me outside Loki's cell, where one of the guards had let him out to comfort me. Bucky found me sobbing, curled up on a ball on the floor, Loki stroking my hair.

It had always been understood that his body would be studied after his death, so there was a memorial service in place of the funeral. There was a memorial garden by the visitors center. It was spare but attractive, featuring lots of white marble; the public came in droves to pay their respects.

It was about a month before I went back to work. On top of Steve, it turned out that Sarah had had a heart defect and she died too. It was a very tough month indeed.

Everybody pretty much left me alone, for which I was grateful. I showed up for team meetings and did the work, but I wasn't going out on missions. I cast a couple more engines for motorcycles and cars, and a prototype for one for a quinjet. This one was an entirely different animal, and the enormous challenge was just what I needed. The Paladin officially retired; I'd lost the heart for it, and I sent my costumes to the archives at the visitors center, along with Nike for display. I left the urumi in its belt sheath.

The next time I really looked up, color was edging the trees again.

Shortly before Halloween, I got a call to report to the clinic and was led upstairs. I started to panic. Nothing good ever waited for me in those rooms. Tony saw me coming down the hall and knocked on one of the doors. By the time I arrived, the door was opening and Bucky motioned me in.

The world sort of grayed around the edges when I saw Steve in the bed, looking like he had on that terrible day we'd been told the serum was failing him. The lines on his face were more pronounced, that was the main difference.

"I remember you from the forest," he said pleasantly as he looked at me. "You made my shield."

"Is that all you remember?" I asked faintly, and he nodded. "It's kind of a blur after that," he admitted. "Apparently I got married, though," he said, nodding to his ring on the table. "Where are the kids, Buck?" he said, turning to his friend. "You don't get married and not have kids. They thought the serum would have prevented me from passing my original defects onto any offspring. I always said I'd name my son after you, remember?"

I swayed out the door as he continued to chatter at Bucky about how much he wanted kids. A son, especially.

Tony was looking distinctly nervous. "How did this happen?" I said quietly. "Who knew? Talk fast."

"The last couple months, there was a geneticist and a biochemist who thought they had the serum figured out. Apparently you told Steve's doctor a list of what went into another version, and between that and my dad's notes from the last batch of serum, there was a formula. The doctors found that the original serum was still present in his cells, it just needed a boost. Not the original serum, something to boost cell production again. I got a letter from a bank in California; my dad had a safe deposit box there, he'd paid for a hundred years, but the bank was being closed. The schematics were there for the Vita Ray, which was the big missing component. Steve wanted to go ahead. He didn't want to die. It was him and me and Barnes and the doctors, I made the Vita Ray generator. The nurse gave him a preparatory injection when he was failing at the end and he was put into cryo until the testing was as done as it could be." He swallowed. "Natasha knew because of Barnes. Barton knew because of Natasha. T'Challa knew because we consulted with his people who treated Barnes. Wanda knew because she was snooping around in people's heads.--"

"Who didn't know?" I whispered. "Besides me, of course."

"Thor, Sif, Peter, that kid can't keep a secret from you, but I think he knows something's up.--" Thor and Sif were back on Asgard, had been for the past few months. So, basically everybody.

"Why didn't anybody tell me?" I whispered.

"Uh--" Tony looked panicked.

"Because we were afraid you'd put a halt to it," Bucky said, stepping out of the room and closing the door.

"We thought that if it went wrong, you'd never have to know," Tony babbled. "But then you'd be so glad to see Steve again." His voice faltered. "No?" I balled up my fist and hit him as hard as I could. His head hit the wall and he slumped to the floor.

"He doesn't remember me, asshole," I hissed. "Not past when I made the shield."

Tony tested his eye first, then the back of the head. "Con didn't say you'd hit. I thought you'd gotten past the hitting."

"Con? My friend, Constance? What does she have to do with this?" I asked, bewildered.

"We've been dating these past five, six months," Tony muttered. "I mentioned that to her in therapy though." I looked at Bucky, silent and dark between me and the door. There was not point in trying to slap him, as much as I wanted to. He'd have gone along with whatever Steve wanted, just as Steve would have done the same for him. I stared up at the ceiling and took a couple of breaths. Then I turned and strode down the hall to the door. When I hit the outside door, I was running. I holed up in the house in one of the guest rooms where I'd been sleeping since Steve...well, I guess died wasn't quite what happened. I ignored the periodic pounding on the door and kept the lights off. Around midnight, having checked details on my phone--which I'd also ignored--I had finished my plan.

I woke up around six, pressed tightly by the dogs. I showered and went back to the clinic, where I demanded to speak to Steve's doctor. He wasn't able to assure me that Steve's memory would return. The brain is very delicate, and dying and cryo and whatever else they'd done might have erased them for good. He'd been awake for close to a week already and his memories were holding steady. I thought of Bucky and his memory problems. I went upstairs. There was nobody on the door or in the room with Steve, who was asleep. I watched the man I had loved for a moment, then placed my rings on the table with a note. I'd boxed up his things after he...whatevered, and they were in storage in the complex. I couldn't bear to throw them away, but I needed space from them too, so I'd put them in his old room in the residence. The note also included the account number for an escrow account; I'd inherited his assets as well as a life insurance payout. I'd placed that amount of money in the escrow account, plus a sum for half of what our house had been worth (the title was back in just my name since I'd thought my husband was dead), plus a year's worth of interest. We hadn't had a lot of time to acquire things together. I went to my workshop, put a letter of resignation in the inter-office mail for Nick, and took all my personal items. I didn't want the weapons or the framed photos or the costume design sketches Steve had done for me, but I didn't want anybody else to have them, either. I went back to the house. By then, the businesses I needed were open, and I arranged for movers to pack up the house and put everything into storage. The realtors I'd bought the house from would be delighted to sell it for me.

I went to a sporting goods store and made some purchases, then the dogs and I put the car into long-term parking. I laced up my old hiking boots and we started walking south along the Pacific Crest National Scenic Trail.

It was a shitty time of year to be doing the hike, but that was ok, the cold and stormy weather matched my heart and mind. It was a matter of literally putting one foot in front of the other, day after day, and gradually my mind cleared and brightened. The start had been difficult, I hadn't done backpacking for years, but I'd kept up with my cardio, so at least I wasn't out of shape. By the time we fetched up at the base of the Sierra Nevadas, where snow had already made the trail impassable, I'd done enough. I no longer wanted to scream at the heavens for answers or try to make people explain why I hadn't been in the loop. I still really couldn't figure that one out. I'd once given seventy-ish years of my life to a guy I'd never met. And if the scientists had explained what they wanted to do, given me a plan, most likely it would have been ok. Science never fails me. My understanding and capability to do the science are sometimes insufficient, but I blame myself for those failures, not the science. People do. People for whom I'd laid down my life, trusted as completely as I was capable... oh, people will fail you. Peter was the only one I kept in contact with. I deleted voicemail and email from the others unread, unheard. And I wrote sporadic letters to Loki, sent him boxes of books and DVDs when I had WiFi.

In the small town where we quit the trail was an old-fashioned library that still had a globe. One morning I spun the globe to find my next destination. I had to do it a couple of times, actually; the first time put me in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and once in Africa. I wanted to stay in the continental US, so for the third time, I just closed my eyes and poked my finger at the stationary globe.

The dogs and I took the train back up to Seattle, where we picked up the car and headed southeast. I bought a charming fieldstone house in Breckenridge, Colorado that had been renovated to provide a very modern interior, pretty much the antithesis of the house in Seattle. It was at the end of the ski season and the snow wasn't very good, but I took a few lessons anyway, and the dogs and I settled in. One spring day, we were hiking along a muddy trail when a ridiculously tall man stopped me. I looked into his face and recognized Baldur. The dogs whined when they saw him.

"The dogs must be returned now," he said implacably.

"I thought they were mine for my lifetime," I said numbly. "Thor told me--"

"They are warriors, companions for those in battle. You are no longer a warrior," he said. "They must return where they belong." He allowed me to say goodbye and this time I swear I heard my heart crumble and felt my spirit fade.

That fall, I went to Estes Park for the annual Highland Festival and came home with three rescue dogs--two black Scotty pups and a corgi. They had been rescued from a puppy mill.

That winter I planned a garden and began studying to become a consulting rosarian. I started learning botany. As soon as the yard cleared its snow, I was out digging up flower beds to supplement the one at the front of the house. I planted more roses, and columbines, irises (although they wouldn't bloom this year) delphinium, foxglove, monkshood, poppies, gladiolus, lavender, pansies, snapdragons, and petunias, and planned to plant crocus, tulip, and daffodil bulbs in the fall. I'd seen a lawn that had crocus flowers pushing up in the early spring and wanted that beauty for myself. I made a container garden for kitchen herbs.

I took a break from the weeding and ate a sandwich on the porch, deriving satisfaction from the view. The garden was going to look great in a few years. The few roses that had come with the house were prospering. I finished my sandwich and started over to inspect them when I heard a car coming up the drive. Odd. Nobody really visited me. I knelt and started flipping leaves over. Sure enough, there were aphids. My mortal enemy. I stood, considering my options. I heard car doors close and footsteps come up behind me.

"Nice place."

I let the comment hang in the air. Let it fall flat and die. Maybe long enough for grass to start growing over it. "Stark," I finally said flatly. "Why are you here? Did you not get the hint that I was done with you, with all of you?"

"I did manage to decode the meaning of you not returning phone calls or emails," he said, jittery energy in his voice. "Need to talk to you."

I ignored him and moved to the next flowerbed. Yep, aphids here too. Hmm. A problem. I wanted to avoid pesticides as much as possible. I ran through some potential solutions, thinking of blasting them off with water from the hose.

"Emma?" I heard the concern in his voice. "Are you ok?"

"Not especially, and especially not now that you've shown up." I stuck my fingers in the soil. A little dry. "I don't care about your needs or wants any more. If I did, I would have asked."

"Where's Sigurd and Torburn?" he said, evidently to change the subject, or maybe it was a blatant attempt to demonstrate that he cared. "I'd like to say hi. They're great dogs."

I bowed my head and didn't speak until the stab of sorrow faded enough to control. "Baldur showed up and took them back. Said they only belonged to warriors." But I smiled as three young dogs charged around the corner of the house, stopping dead and surveying the scene. Then they started to growl at the sight before the Scotties charged Stark, snapping their teeth. I heard cloth tear and grinned a little vindictively. Stark yipped a little, but he didn't do anything else.

"Fergal, baby, come here," I said blandly, extending my hand behind me and wiggling my fingers. "Wallace, stop." The corgi stayed put until I heard movement behind me and then she got in motion, growling. She was more serious than the boys, and I stood and turned around. The Scotties were enthusiastically pulling and tearing at Tony's slacks, but my Corgi was dead set on taking on Captain America.

"Daf," I said sternly. She didn't pause. "Daffodil! Come here!" Reluctantly, she slowed, then trudged over to me. I picked her up with a grunt. "Thank you, baby," I told her, and she licked my face. "You're very brave." I let her down when I sat on the porch and reluctantly called off the boys. Their bright eyes surveyed me and they did, for once, do as they were bid. They sat between me and the intruders, bless their hearts. "So where's Barnes?" I asked.

"What makes you think anybody's here with us?" Steve asked, and I rolled my eyes.

"There were three heat signatures in the car when you drove in, dumbass. Heat vision, remember? Or did that slip your mind too?" My voice was hostile. My sweet, happy girl started to growl. I soothed her with a few strokes over her shoulders and patted her. Rogers colored. "Where is he?" I repeated sharply.

"Here," he said, stepping from around the other side of my house. Reflexively, I threw a knife at him. I had the mean satisfaction of seeing his eyes go big and a little alarmed before he dodged it. "You kept up your training," he said.

"Never know what's going to turn up on my doorstep," I said. I had the concern in the back of my head that somebody would figure out that I'd been Paladin, and Paladin had enemies. And now there were these guys. "So I'll ask one more time. Why are you here? Make your answers concise and clear or I'll have the cops come and arrest you for trespass. This is posted private property."

"We need you to come back," Stark said. I sneered at him. "It's falling apart. Fury had a stroke earlier in the year and has to retire. Wanda's...touch with reality is a little fluid sometimes. We're arguing and we can't get any traction. Sif's pregnant again, that's good news, though. Pietro has a girlfriend, Barton's family is doing well. Pepper got married last year, they're very happy, Con and I aren't getting married, but we're doing pretty well overall, considering she's with me. Barnes and Natasha broke up--" Barnes glowered at him--"Sam and Scott and Rhodey are good, Pete's getting reckless, though, he won't listen to me. Dropped his internship and everything."

"I know about that. I told him not to. He needs to think of his future."

"Errr--but the team itself isn't doing very well--"

"So you think that you can just show up and I'll come running back?" I couldn't believe my ears. "In what universe do you think that would actually happen? If you need a metalsmith, go find the one who worked for Silvermane."

"Come on, Emma, you gotta work with me here. You've had your walkabout to get your perspective back, but now it's time to come home," Tony said, trying to get the upper hand.

Rogers came over and started to sit beside me. "I didn't say you could sit," I barked at him. He stopped, stood, and faced me.

"You're my wife," he said quietly. "I--"

"I was. I checked with a lawyer. Once you were declared dead, the marriage ended," I said crisply. "I've seen pictures of you on covers of periodicals at the supermarket. They're impossible to avoid, and sometimes people enjoy pointing them out. So I know you've been with other women. We went through this once before. So no, you don't get to say I'm your wife anymore. I gave you back your stuff and the value of your assets at the time of your death. That's all you get from me." Venom dripped from my voice.

"You can come to New York, work from there--" Stark tried.

"Damned near all of you knew what was going on. And every single person kept the knowledge of the big experiment from me. I don't buy that you thought I'd shut it down." I glared at Rogers. "You're the one who had a cow when the windows of the workshop were tested while I was inside, who didn't want me to use a tissue speed healer because it was experimental. If you'd really wanted it and the science was reasonable, I wouldn't have stood in your way. Because I thought our marriage was based on love and trust. But instead I had to lose my husband twice. I've lost pretty much everything that mattered to me and you have the nerve to show up here and expect my help. The answer is not only no, but go fuck yourselves. All you people do is use other people up while you indulge yourselves with your goals and desires. I'm done. Get out. Now." I stood up, gestured to the dogs, and we went inside the house. I snapped the lock closed behind me.

I stayed inside for the rest of the afternoon; I took a little nap partway through and woke up at twilight. I went along my usual routine and went upstairs to read in bed for awhile. I woke up around two in the morning to hear a sharp noise. It repeated, and I realized that somebody was throwing things against one of the windows. I thought for a moment. I bet it was Barnes. Wearily, I pulled on a robe and opened the window. "You by yourself, Barnes?" I asked, and after a moment, he said that he was. I shut the window and went downstairs. Reluctantly, I let him in the back door. I poured myself a glass of water, and set the pitcher and an empty glass on the table.

"Talk," I said before sipping the water.

"I'm here on my own," he said, toying with his glass. "You need to know some things. First, I admit we didn't handle this right. And I'm really sorry for it and what you've been through. Stark went to Steve with this hare-brained idea of recreating the serum. He'd found a couple of doctors--PhD ones-- who were willing to work on it. But they had a lucky accident in the lab that made them realize they didn't have to recreate the serum, just figure a way to reestablish the cells' production. Or something." He frowned and shook his head soberly. "I told Steve not to fuck around and to bring you in on it, but he wouldn't. I should have pressed harder. Or done it myself. Stark needs Steve to balance him out. And Steve didn't want to die, he wanted more time with you and to do his job. He'd asked me at one point to become Captain America when he dies. To give him peace, I said I would. He didn't really think it was going to work. He didn't want to give you false hope, and he wanted you with him for as long as he had. He thought that if you knew, you'd dive in with your usual...thoroughness. Stark felt sure that you'd pick the procedure apart, expose all the flaws, get the plug pulled, apparently there are limits to human experimentation, even on a volunteer, and he convinced Steve. The doctors worked hard and came up with a protocol. The vitamin shots he was getting had drugs to prepare him and as soon as he died they ran the new treatment through his veins and put him on ice. They needed to test the Vita Ray thing and they would only get one chance, they had to test it more.

"So they zapped him and he was alive again, but he was in a coma. It took a week for him to come out of it. And more than a week to see if he was going to recover. They called you as soon as they found out he was going to be ok. I wanted to see what he remembered first, fill in the gaps before you saw him. It would have spared you the scene at the hospital, at least. And yeah, he did want kids at one point, but he was sincere when he told you he didn't think it was possible for him later. He didn't lie to you. About that."

I rubbed my temple. I had a headache and a heartache and I wanted to make a list to nail the doctors who went along with Stark to the wall and get their licenses pulled along with their intestines and exact bloody revenge on...everyone. And I didn't think any of it would help; I'd still have the headache and the heartache and a bonus bunch of bloodstains to clean up. I had a dangerous man sitting at my kitchen table and I felt too betrayed by my friend/therapist to call for help.


	21. The fallout is nuclear

"What are you thinking?" Bucky said after awhile.

"Various revenge scenarios," I said, drooping. "I don't see how they'd really help, though." We just sat there. Claws clicked on the wooden floor and I got up automatically for the bag of treats as they lined up. Bucky smiled.

"They've got you pretty well trained," he observed.

I would have smiled, but it was too much work. "What happened with you and Natasha?" I asked instead. Let somebody else be on the hot seat.

He poured some water. "Well, this whole mess, basically. You know Natasha, she's very goal oriented. She usually considers emotions as something to be manipulated. Doesn't take time to understand the feelings very often unless you hit her over the head with them. I had to ask her how she'd feel if Clint did that to her. She thought you should be grateful that the procedure worked and Steve was back. She doesn't really do guilt, which usually I understand. There's no point in dwelling on what you can't change, but I knew it wasn't good while we were doing it. I don't compartmentalize anymore. I want to face everything. But being able to separate things into boxes helps keep her together. Don't get me wrong, I'm really grateful Steve's back again, but the way we did it was wrong. She's an original Avenger, and she's fiercely devoted to the team and to Steve, they've been through a lot together. I visit Loki often, I know you send him new movies and books and letters. He's grateful, but he misses you. She got mad about that, saying that I wasn't there for New York and I should leave him to rot, but I know what it's like to be in solitary. She hasn't forgiven him for what he did to Barton. But sometimes I wonder if that stone thing wasn't influencing him as well." He shrugged. "When you left, Stark wanted me to track you down, but I wouldn't. Steve and I had a big argument about it. Stark finally came up with a PowerPoint presentation to show him what happened after his memory fuzzed out. I went through his boxes with him, he found his sketchbooks, his cell phone, all the cards of videos and pictures he'd taken of the parties and everyday and you. He watched the wedding ceremony again, looked at your album, the pictures of the honeymoon, spent some time in the visitors center. There was a government inquiry about... the situation. Tony didn't have to turn over anything because the doctors didn't create a new Super Soldier serum, they just worked on what was already there. Steve's memory started to come back. It's not perfect, there are still come gaps, but it's better than mine."

"I doubt very much if they brainwashed and tortured him," I said dryly. "Could account for the difference." The corner of his mouth turned up. "With your hair longer like that, you remind me of Aragon from the Lord of the Rings movies," I said absently. He huffed a laugh.

"So Natasha and I just...trailed away. Turns out that shared experiences only take you so far." He sat there, playing with the water glass.

"I can't go back, Bucky," I said steadily. "I'm still just barely holding on as it is."

He nodded, his eyes still on the water glass. "Do you miss it?"

"Honestly, it feels like it happened to somebody else, mostly," I said. "Then there are times when I know it happened to me. When that happens I can't really move for awhile. It's hard because I'm driven by facts. They're my anchor. I don't do well when it's just emotions. I wonder if I'm overreacting, but I can't help how I feel. And the fact is that there was a conspiracy to keep me from knowledge that I both needed and deserved. I remember how it felt to get a new challenge and how good it felt to do the work and find solutions or a way to do something. I can't imagine doing that now. I don't have the energy. I used to think I was part of a team. I don't feel like my feelings of belonging, of...helping, or whatever, went both ways." The tic started up in my eyelid again and I pressed to still it. "It's just dismaying to hear the emotional investment I had in the whole thing wasn't reciprocated. Even now, it's just, 'we're in a mess, we need somebody to straighten it out.' Like I'm a dog who can be brought to heel when people snap their fingers. Convenient." I looked over at my dogs, lying on the floor after their treats. "Not my dogs, though. Scotties in particular don't do obedience well. And I know that there were phone calls and emails, but I don't care. That's like sweeping up after a bomb went off. It doesn't address the bomb crater."

Bucky nodded and his hands fell away from the glass. "I thought you'd have recovered more," he admitted. "But I'm not the best judge of what to expect. And Stark says you quit talking to Con after you found out she and Tony were seeing each other and that she knew about Steve."

I snorted. "I understand the privilege of doctor-patient confidentiality very well. I understand it intellectually very well. But emotionally, knowing she was keeping that secret from me isn't something I can deal with. So I feel like she chose too. She chose Stark over me. It's not like she needed the money from his sessions, she's been one of New York's top psychiatrists for well over a decade now. It feels like a betrayal. We were friends for over twenty years." I shrugged and thought about that for a bit, remembering how we got to be such good friends. We'd been on the same floor on the dorm and had been friends, but it hadn't been until she'd been assaulted on a date--not raped, fortunately, although it was pretty close--that we became close friends as I helped her through that. And we'd been tight ever since, with an easing when she did med school and then when I went into the jungle and my emails got a lot more sporadic. We'd resumed our friendship when I got to Austria. I'd always thought we'd be friends forever, but forever turned out to be a lot shorter than I'd previously assumed.

'Stark wants you back to save us from ourselves. But I don't think you'd do it now even if you could." He looked at me steadily.

"I haven't done any work like I used to since I walked away."

"Not even that, although it's kind of a surprise to see you planting flowers. You always said that biology was the squishiest of all the natural sciences." He laughed. "You said once after a few too many drinks at a party that you liked your science the way you liked your men, hard and hands on. I hadn't known you very long at that point." I huffed an unwilling laugh.

"I came mostly to keep a lid on Steve and Stark, but I also have a favor to ask you." I frowned. "This is personal, not for the group, and I know it's an enormous imposition, so I wanted to talk to you alone. I understand if you don't want to do it." He wiggled, then sat up straight. "T'Challa's people developed some sensors for my arm that work like nerves. I'd be able to feel some sensations again. But they can't attach them because whatever metal you used for the arms isn't letting them. They don't stay on the metal. They could make me another arm, but I want this one."

I could see the problem. I'd tried to make the alloy as impervious to outside manipulation as possible, which explained the difficulties the Wakandan scientists were having. It would be cruel to deny Bucky the opportunity to have sensation again. I rolled my eyes at myself. I normally couldn't really make heads or tails of cruelty anymore, but here it was, staring me in the face. "I'm not going to Africa," I stated. "If you can get them to send the sensors to the States, I'll do it here. If you can keep it between us."

Hope blazed in his face and I felt like a shit for even considering saying no. Of course, it helped enormously that he'd apologized and it seemed heartfelt. "Ok. I'll send an email as soon as I hear?" His voice was tentative. I nodded. "Thanks. You'll never know how much this means to me," he said fervently, then he left. I trudged upstairs with my pups, and we went back to bed.

The sun had been up awhile when I woke up the next time, and I decided to treat myself to breakfast at the diner. The diner was busy but not crowded, and I smiled at the waitress as she came up with coffee. It kind of hurt. But then again, Marisa wasn't my favorite waitress; she was the prying type. "Quite the buzz around town," she said, plunking down a little pitcher of half and half. "Iron Man, the Winter Soldier, and Captain America in town. Going to your house. It's odd that your ex-husband needs world-class superheroes with him just to talk to you. Does he need that much protection? Or were they there to do more to you than talk?" She laughed.

I handed her my menu. "Short stack of buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup, scrambled eggs, and well-done sausage," I requested. "And an orange juice, please."

She didn't write down my order, just watched me. "I'm here for breakfast, not gossip," I said pointedly. Her eyes narrowed, still no writing of my order. "You might want to try having a life of your own if yours if salacious speculation about other people is the most interesting thing in yours," I said cuttingly. Her mouth hung open.

"You bitch!" My eyebrows raised. There went her tip. A gasp went through the nearby tables and I flushed. The owner came over, looked at us both, and told me to leave and not come back since I couldn't be civil. Apparently he thought I swore at the waitress. I didn't argue, just grabbed my purse and left. 

I'd have to go to the other diner for breakfast now, and I didn't like their sausage as much. Maybe it was time to switch to bacon. Absorbed in my breakfast machinations, I almost ran right into Rogers. I crossed my arms over my chest tightly and started to walk around him. "Emma, come on," he said, his tone reasonable but with an edge on condescension. "We need to talk."

"The time for talk is past," I said, the hollowness that I'd felt for so long coming back. "It was over when you didn't tell me about your little plan."

"It was for your protection. That's not fair--"

"Bullshit! Don't you dare talk to me about fair! What did you think I needed protection from---you? Or did you just think "in sickness and in health" were just words? I'm not some fragile thing that shatters under pressure, I was your wife, goddamn you. I deserved to know." My voice was way too loud and there was too much emotion in it. People had come out of the diner and stopped on the sidewalks to watch. Too public. "For better or worse. Because they weren't just words to me. I meant them when I said them," I said, almost in a whisper, then I literally couldn't stop myself. I slapped him with all my strength. It was probably the best slap I'd ever delivered and it forced him back a good pace and a half. My palm felt like it was on fire. "You're a bunch of emotional cripples and I've had enough of friendly fire," I hissed at him. "Stay away from me."

I stomped off. By the time I got to the other diner, I had managed to focus enough on impending bacon to be able to eat. I was served here without comment. Then I went home and burrowed in the dirt all day. The pups helped me create a new flower bed. It was with quite a bit of irritation and annoyance that I realized, as I chopped vegetables for salad that evening, that something had changed in me that morning. Confronting Rogers had done something essential. I felt like my spine had returned after an extended vacation, god help me. My heart still felt like a pathetic muscle that had been worked over by a baseball bat, but my mind felt sharper and more in focus. I was done being a sad sack of water and cell membranes.

What that meant for my future, I didn't know.

The next morning, I went back for breakfast and picked up a copy of the local bi-weekly paper to read with my bacon and coffee. "Just a warning," my waiter said as he poured my coffee. "There's a letter to the editor in there about you." My heart sank as I thanked him for the alert, and I looked until I found the editorial page. I firmed my mouth and started to read.

"We've been hosting quite illustrious guests this week," the letter started. "Inspirational Avengers Captain America, Iron Man, and the reformed Winter Soldier have been spotted on the streets, apparently to visit the former Mrs Captain America, who has taken up residence in Breckenridge. The three superheroes aren't talking about why they are seeing the sights, and Emma Harrington isn't saying anything either.

"However, one of the waitresses at Calhoun's Diner apparently thought to taunt Harrington about her former husband. It wasn't until she made a nasty insinuation about the heroes' visit that Harrington told her to get a life and stay out of hers. The waitress swore at her, and the owner kicked Harrington out of the diner.

"Leaving the diner, Harrington encountered Captain America. From what was overheard, it sounds like the Captain did not inform his wife about the efforts surrounding his unexpected resurrection. Judging from the titanic slap she gave him, she hasn't forgiven him for whatever happened.

"I know practically everyone has at some point speculated about why Harrington came here and what happened to her marriage. You've probably heard people goading her about it; I heard somebody pointing out stories in magazines to her in the bookstore one day. But enough is enough, people. We should be compassionate and--" I stopped reading. The waiter put down my breakfast.

"Bit much?" he asked, putting down my orange juice and topping off my coffee.

"I thought, in a small tourist town, that people wouldn't care," I said. "Or that interest would wear off fast."

He smiled sympathetically. "For anonymity, you need a big city," he said, patting my shoulder, then moving away. As I poured syrup on my pancakes, I reflected that peace and quiet had its price. The question was whether I liked it enough to look past the snoopiness to stay.

I overheard in the grocery store that the Avengers had left town that morning, and relaxed a little. I settled back into my routine and went back to ignoring too personal comments and questions. The letter to the editor hadn't stopped anybody, and I never got an apology from the diner's owner. A couple of weeks later, I got an email from Bucky asking me if I could meet him in New York to do the arm. T'Challa was sending over a specialist with the sensors.

On the one hand, it would be good to do this project. On the other hand, barf. I bet the work would have to be done at the tower. And there wasn't any real reason not to, except that I just didn't want to set foot in it again. The desire to do the project perfectly won out over my reluctance, and I agreed to meet him there. I also texted Peter to let him know that I would be in town and wanted to see him. He texted back almost immediately and his enthusiasm made me smile. So I put the dogs in a luxury kennel down in Denver and caught a flight from Denver International Airport to New York. I got a window seat in first class. It was slower than the quinjet, but a lot more comfortable. And no attached memories. And booze.

Once in the city, I chose a good hotel at random and requested a room without a view of Stark Tower. I picked up Peter for dinner; May gave me a spontaneous hug and declined my offer to come with us. She had a date, and we exchanged grins.

"You're looking pretty good," Pete said over dinner. "I can't believe you're staying in such a small town, though."

"Feeling better." I poked around on my plate. "Denver isn't far, and it's a decent sized city."

"You're dinking around with flowers," he said with disbelief.

I pointed my fork at him. "Flowers are going to be very important in your future with the ladies, sunshine." He snickered.

"Don't you miss real work? Avenging?" he asked quietly.

I sighed. "I miss making a difference," I finally admitted. "I just can't go back to the team."

He was silent as we finished the entrees and ordered dessert. Peter's a growing boy, after all. He leaned in and smiled a crafty smile. "If you moved here, even part time, at least you could keep an eye on me." I dropped my fork and leaned back in my chair.

"Kid, you fight dirty," I said with resignation.


	22. Origin story

Sooo. The idea of being back in New York was tempting. And it was a way to reinvent myself, I thought. I told Peter I'd give it some thought, but that was a lie, and we both knew it. He'd had me on the hook as soon as he proposed his idea. I had to do something, and maybe it was time to learn a new trade, go to work like a normal person, come home, have dinner, walk the dogs... maybe catch some criminals in a new suit. Something completely unlike anything I'd worn as Paladin. First thing the next morning, I called Foggy and had him start to work on a shell company for me, so my name wouldn't be on any legal transactions for property. I knew Stark haunted LexisNexis, and he'd probably be trying to track me. Why make it easy for him?

But before anything else, there was Bucky. I made myself go to the tower and presented myself at the front desk. The guard called for Bucky, who came down promptly, fresh out of the shower in jeans and a t-shirt. I sniffed as we took the private elevator up. "You changed your cologne," I noted. He was wearing something that had a nice rich clove note and a light warm musk.

He looked at me and smiled a little. "Yeah, I needed a change." Then he sobered. "I need to tell you that T'Challa told Stark that you were going to be here. I don't think he meant any harm, but I told everybody to stay away while you were working and I think they'll respect that."

I felt like snarling, but kept a pleasant look on my face. "Ok, I appreciate the head's up. But we both know Stark doesn't really work like that. If it happens, we'll just have to work elsewhere." Bucky nodded and led me to an empty workroom where the Wakandan scientist waited. His name was Samuel, and he'd gotten all of his degrees in Cambridge. He launched into an explanation of how the sensors worked of which I understood about one word in seven. From what I understood, if the sensors were successfully installed, he'd be able to register temperature and pressure. The number of sensors was disappointingly small, but they were surprisingly large. I had Samuel hook up a sensor to one of the new clips at Bucky's shoulder and touched it to see what Bucky felt. His eyes opened wide and had me touch his organic arm for comparison. He was so excited when he said he could feel the temperature change from my fingers and the pressure. Samuel puffed up a little; the sensors were his baby. 

We started running into snags almost immediately. First, even I couldn't make the sensors attach to the arm. Then I had concerns about the number of sensors and the area they could cover; I wanted Bucky to have sensations all over his arm, not just his hand, which is where Samuel wanted to concentrate them. Both Samuel and I got frustrated, and late in the afternoon I threw in the towel. "I'm not quitting the project," I assured Bucky. "But we're not accomplishing anything positive right now. I'm calling it a day. I'm sure both Samuel and I will be thinking about potential solutions tonight, but I just want to tear my hair out right now. Let's reconvene tomorrow morning." Samuel stopped grinding his teeth, and I left with relief.

Halfway through dinner, I had a brainstorm. Wire. I needed to make wire from the alloy. I checked a couple of sources from my table. I'd have to go to a couple of supply houses to get what I needed to recreate it, but I could get a start tonight. I bolted the rest of my dinner, got the dessert to go, and tore around the city. A last stop at a Home Depot yielded the final batch of equipment. Back in my hotel room, I measured the mass of the metals and minerals on a sensitive balance and put them in a crucible. I wouldn't need a lot of metal to produce the wire. Firing up a propane torch, I melted everything, then poured it in a mold to obtain a long, thin rod. Then I thought again and made a small ingot just in case I needed the metal for something else. Wanting to be fresh the next morning, I went to bed early.

I hustled over to the tower, fighting the commuter traffic, in the morning. The desk guard was no one I knew, and I liked the anonymity as I signed in. He picked up the phone and was about to dial upstairs when there was a shriek. We both looked over to see Eliza almost running toward the desk to hug me. "Emma!" she said breathlessly. "It's so good to see you!" She backed away slightly to look me over, then gave me another hug. Pepper came up behind her and gave me a pat on the shoulder.

"Tony didn't mention you were coming back," Pepper said in confusion. My smile slipped.

"I'm not. I'm just here to consult with a Wakandan scientist about an upgrade to Bucky's arm." She nodded her understanding.

"Well, we'll take you up," Pepper said. "Please let Mr Barnes know that Emma's on her way," she directed the security guard, who nodded and picked up the phone again. In the elevator, Eliza said that she'd been assigned as Pepper's personal assistant. It seemed to be working out well for both of them. They walked me to the lab and Eliza went to get coffee as we waited. Pepper was doing a great job with the company, or so I'd read from my shareholder reports. "I'm surprised you hung onto your shares," she said.

"I was going to sell them," I admitted, "but with you at the helm, they're too valuable to let go. My financial advisor very nearly stroked out when I said I wanted to sell." She smiled proudly. We said our goodbyes when Samuel showed up. He hadn't had any big ideas, but then his expertise was on the electronics, not the engineering of the arm. I hadn't designed the arm, but I'd made it and I knew it inside and out. He listened to my idea, getting more excited as I explained the details.

"I'll need to modify the sensors," he said, grinning. Bucky showed up and the two of us babbled as we explained what we wanted to do. Bucky looked between us and smiled in bemusement.

"Ok. Is there any more coffee?" Samuel went on a coffee run for the two of them and I detached the arm and locked the bargain-basement hook model prosthetic I'd also made him in the beginning so that he'd still have two limbs while he waited. "So let me get this straight," he said when Samuel got back. "You're going to make wire, which you'll run from the outside in to the sensors." We nodded almost in unison. "What's going to prevent the wires from snapping?"

"The tensile strength of the metal is high," Samuel explained. "Bust she's also going to make grooves for the wire to rest in, and we have an electroconductive gel that we'll apply over the top. It will help to impart the stimuli to the wires while also ...sort of gluing them into place to prevent damage. It is almost as tough as bulletproof glass when cured properly with heat and UV light. It will impart a slightly satin finish to your arm and possibly a faint bluish tint, but it should be very inconspicuous and will not impede the function of the hand or arm."

Bucky hefted his arm and tossed it to me. "Better get to work, then," he said, smiling. Samuel took the sensors and went to one of the clean rooms to start his modifications. Bucky accompanied me to a lab where there was an apparatus already set up for wire, draw plates and everything. I drew it to the thickness of sewing thread and tested the tensile strength by twining it around my fingers and trying to snap it. It didn't, so I drew it down until it did, and chose a diameter in the middle as a way to reduce thickness without sacrificing needed strength. Once that was decided, the setup automatically drew the rod finer and finer. I only had to pay attention when I needed to change the size of the hole in the draw plate. While this was going on, I made my tool for engraving the grooves in the metal of the arm and found a stick of impact-resistant plastic to make the handle. I carefully opened the arm to create two halves and inspected the mechanics I'd originally set into place. Things were holding up well, but there was a gasket that was getting a little worn and a couple of pieces that needed attention, so I took care of those before cleaning it inside and out. I started to use my ability to make curved tiny holes in the metal for the wire to go in and out, moving molecules around so that there were no burrs or sharp angles to cut the wire. Finally the finished wire spun onto a spool and we returned to the lab. I only had about half the holes made when Samuel came back. Bucky was reading A Tale of Two Cities while he waited patiently, and both were a little disappointed that we couldn't start right away.

"I'm sorry," I started to say, but Samuel shook his head.

"It is best not to rush this," he said. "Take your time." He grinned. "I get paid whether or not I am actively working." I laughed and went back to work. I had to stop around nine because I was getting a headache. I hadn't used these abilities for a long time and it was showing, even though I stopped to stamp the grooves between the holes for the wire periodically. Bucky made me go for dinner with him before walking me back to my hotel. I went straight to bed.

It was midafternoon by the time I got the holes finished and started to thread the wires. I had Bucky and Samuel cut the wire to a length that I could use and started putting them into place, melting the ends into the inner surface of the arm, going through one hole, along the slight groove in the outer surface, in through the other hole. Periodically I stopped to braid the wires together; there were two braids coming out of each finger, two each on the palm and back of the hand, more as I went up the arm. I made coils in the wire braids along the way to account for any emergency need to stretch, and finally my part was through. I delicately fit the two halves together, and with a nervous huff of breath, handed it to Samuel. Bucky ran his organic hand over the surface; the wires stayed in place and he said it felt pretty flat to him. Samuel took it off to dip it into the gel; we'd have to wait a couple hours before hooking up the sensors, so Bucky took me to an early dinner. Samuel wanted to stay close, and declined to go with us. When we got back we still had to wait for the UV to finish the curing process. We were all jumpy. Finally Samuel brought back the arm, connectors attached to the ends of the braided wire, and began clipping the sensors to Bucky's shoulder. I held the arm close to the shoulder. The coating was very thin and had a slight texture that would make gripping things easier, I realized, serving the same function as fingerprints. I expressed that observation and Samuel paused.

"I didn't think about that," he said, dismayed, and I shrugged.

"I didn't either," I admitted, "but it worked out ok in the end."

"I don't mean to interrupt," Bucky said, his voice raised slightly, "but could you get back to work?" I smiled at his impatience. There wasn't much to be done; Samuel clicked the connections to the sensors closed and fastened the arm again. I held my breath as Bucky checked the movement, then touched the back of the hand with his organic hand. His smile grew, and I ran my hands down the arm. "I feel that! I can actually feel that!" he shouted. I thumped Samuel on the back in congratulations as he presented Bucky with ice cubes and hot water to touch to check temperature calibration, and then a variety of textures to check tactile sensations.

"It's good," Samuel muttered.

"It's great!" Bucky said fervently, hugging me tight, then grabbing Samuel for a three-way hug. "I never thought I'd be able to feel in this arm again."

I looked at Samuel and smiled. "So what's the next step?"

"I'm not sure," he said pensively. "External sensors? Certainly more points of contact..."

"The next step?" Bucky said, puzzled. "Aren't we done?"

"Not until it's as good as flesh," Samuel said, as if Bucky was a little thick. "Keep a record it how if functions, what's good and bad," he directed him. "I'll be in touch," he said to both of us. "I have some ideas..." and he exited the room, muttering to himself. Bucky and I grinned at each other. I picked up his hand, double checking the rotation and movement of the joints, the appearance of the whole thing. The wires were fine enough to not stand out, visually or tactilely. Bucky squeezed my hand and rubbed it.

"I can't get over this. It's so much more than I expected. The whole arm. I can't thank you enough--"

"Let's see it," Stark said imperiously behind me, and my lips drew back in a snarl before I managed to smooth it out and step away. I looked over and saw Rogers and Wilson with him. I frowned and stepped farther away from Bucky.

I put up with it until they had a chance to look it over. I heard a vacuum cleaner in the hall. "Congratulations, Bucky," I said, and walked out the door. I recognized the housekeeper; it was Rosa; she used to clean my office.

"Rosa!" She looked up and smiled.

"Miss Emma! It's good to see you!"

"I'm sorry to impose, but could you take me down to the lobby?" I asked, and she agreed. as we got into the elevator, I could see Rogers coming after me. He got in with us but stayed silent as I asked Rosa how her granddaughter was doing. We hugged at the lobby level and I walked toward the exit.

"So you fixed Bucky's arm?" Rogers said neutrally behind me after the elevator door closed. Damn it. Should have taken off running.

"Obviously," I said.

"Why are you talking to him and not me?" he burst out.

"That arm is one of my favorite creations," I said sternly. "Nobody's messing with it but me. As for why I'm talking to him..." I shook my head in disbelief. "I'm talking to him because he apologized to me in a meaningful way. He's the only one who understood why an apology was necessary." I turned and ignored him, exiting the tower with relief and looking for a cab.

I went back to Colorado the next morning and made arrangements with a local company to rent the house out to tourists. They'd take care of the money, the vacationers, and had a service for outdoor maintenance as well as indoor emergencies. If I wanted to stay, I just had to let them know in time to block out that time on the calendar.

I pulled up Zillow and started to look around for a place in New York. Not in a hipster neighborhood, god forbid, but some place with a respectable amount of traffic to disguise nocturnal comings and goings. I found pretty much the perfect place, but it was in Brooklyn. Well, Rogers didn't own the whole place just because he used to live there once. I set up an appointment to see it the next day and went to pack. The boxes with my family things had never been unpacked; I'd never entertained here and didn't have the need. All I needed to do really was to clean out the fridge, take out the trash, and box up my personal things, plus that little table I'd bought in Austria. I felt kind of sorry for the poor thing, it traveled so much. That didn't take too long either; I hadn't completely shelved my books, relying mostly on my Kindle when I read. I called a moving company I'd heard really good things about and they showed up late in the afternoon to take everything away for shipping when I had an address. I took a final look around and drove back down to Denver. I stopped by the kennel and picked up the dogs. We went back to New York and settled in at a different hotel at a comfortable distance from the tower.

The realtor called for us the next morning and warned me that there was an offer on the house, made just that day. The house was an Arts and Crafts style, welcoming and solid, comfortably shabby inside, reasonably up to date, nice big kitchen, two full baths, a nice yard with old trees. I made an offer ten percent above the first offer. There was a bit of a bidding war that lasted into the evening, but I got it for fourteen percent more. Or rather, my company would be paying that. Suck it, Stark.

The next day I relaxed pretty much into a blob of jelly, getting up only to walk the dogs. The concierge hailed me as we came back from the second walk. "If you'd like to relax, we do have a dog-walking service," she told me. I brightened. She brought the walker to the front; she was a nice kid who walked dogs to help save money for vet school. The pups seemed to like her, so I arranged a schedule with her that fit in with her college classes and the dog's needs. I would do the first walk in the morning, but then the dogs would go out twice with her. Everybody was happy. The second day I was also a blob, but by the third day, I was starting to make some plans. I went to Foggy's office.

I was surprised to find that Matt's office was shut down and the desk at the front unoccupied. "Kingpin threatened to make Matt's secret identity public," Foggy said bitterly. "He took off to San Francisco. And Karen was brokenhearted and quit." He muttered a few obscenities under his breath. "Shit," he said, as the phone rang.

"Nelson and Murdoch," I said, picking it up. "I'm sorry, Mr Murdoch is on sabbatical. Would you like to speak with Mr Nelson? One moment, I'll put you through." Foggy picked up and I went outside to the waiting room.

After he finished the call, Foggy came out. "I probably can't get you to work for me," he said.

"I can do this for a few weeks," I said, shrugging. "If I can bring my dogs. I could do the secretary side of things, maybe vet some paralegals for you. I'm still making plans, and you know I haven't closed on my house yet."

Foggy's rather haggard face lit up. "That would be huge. I couldn't pay much, though."

"That's fine," I said. I'd work for free for something to do, but this was more professional. He gave me the passwords to the computer and said he'd finish up with the work on my shell company so I could close on the house. Well, he'd be representing me at the sale, anyway. I didn't want my fingerprints on the legal stuff. The first thing I did was check the bills and the finances, which were a little low. I wrote the firm another check and went into the client spreadsheet, upping the fees that I paid by quite a lot. Foggy was a good lawyer, gifted in corporate law, and should be charging me accordingly. I printed out letters that needed to be sent to clients and took them in for his signature. We went over what needed to be done, and I said that the firm was running low on stationary. He asked me to order more, then we talked about what he'd be looking for in a paralegal.

"Matt is all about criminal law, but I'm more comfortable in corporate, so that's where I'm going to focus. Matt comes back, he can pick up what he wants to do, but since he's pretty much abandoned things here, I'm going to phase out our criminal clients." He looked kind of like he was expecting an argument.

"Makes sense to me. If you're doing the work, it might as well be something you want to do. As I get established here, I'll see what I can do to send business your way."

"I'd appreciate that." He fiddled with a pen. "Are you....um...considering going back to costumed crime fighting? Because, if you are, I'd be willing to represent you in criminal court if you get caught, just as a way to thank you. If needed. Just to let you know."

"Yeah, probably, at least until I get too old,' I sighed. "I will endeavor not to get caught, though." I smiled at him. "I really appreciate your offer."

"Well, you've been a good client, your retainer saved the firm from going under, and you helping out here is like manna from heaven, so it's the least I can do."

I got up and prepared to go back to work. "Well, I appreciate you too, Foggy. You're very patient with me and I really feel like I can trust you. I don't feel that way about many."

At closing, he came out with the keys to the doors, and we parted company on the street. Over the next few days, I went in early. The pups loved it, the adventure of it, the new smells, and Foggy was taken by them as well. He started taking them for their noon walk. I had a cleaning service come in one night to give the office a really thorough cleaning, and I went over the furniture thoroughly, polishing, fixing, and hiding scratches and gouges. I discreetly replaced the coffeemaker and microwave and stuffed the freezer with really good quality coffee beans, getting a grinder as well. I ordered really nice stationery for the firm as well as new, upgraded business cards for Foggy. I brought in a few potted plants that helped keep the air quality good and made the office look a little more upscale. I really had to work to keep from replacing everything with nicer things, but that would be way out of line for me to do that, and it might be unethical for him to accept. I didn't know, and I didn't want to get him into trouble. I started vetting applicants for the paralegal/secretary job, and pretty soon Foggy had narrowed down the list of candidates to his top three choices. I made appointments and was secretly glad when he hired my top choice, a woman a little older than me, downsizing after a divorce, who wanted a slower pace of work and relished the challenge of running the office. She had excellent references and experience and seemed both professional and kind, something Foggy needed. My last day of work, I dropped into the chair in Foggy's office and thanked him for the opportunity. He waved that aside.

"You saved my ass," he said. I put the keys on his desk.

"So there's another property I want to buy," I said. He perked up and listened as I explained.

"So you're going to launch a jewelry line?" he asked, and I nodded.

"It will be interesting initially because people will want to see what the ex-Mrs Captain America is doing, but it'll succeed because of the work," I said, showing him a sketchbook I'd filled with designs. There was so much inspiration in New York. Rogers might be brilliant with fashion design, but I knew metal. "I've made jewelry before and it was well-received." And because I was doing this as an indulgence and a cover, it didn't have to turn a profit and I could take my time learning new techniques too. I had my eye on learning enameling.

"I don't know much about jewelry, but I'd buy those earrings if I was a woman," he said, pointing to a graphic pair of gothic-inspired earrings. I smiled; I could convert those easily into cufflinks for a Christmas present. "Ok," and he made notes to help him set up my new business.

We closed the office together and walked down to the street. He gave me a handshake and we parted ways.

Ok, I had a cover identity, my home base, and a job. Now I needed a hero name, persona, and costume. And a sewing machine.


	23. Training montage

First things first. I went to a fabric store and bought a sewing machine, a Viking that had embroidery functions as well as a gazillion regular stitches. I signed up for a course to learn how to use it; it was a lot more sophisticated than the one I'd had in high school. I decided to get my hand back in the game with a baby quilt for Sif and bought a how-to book along with an easy pattern, the fabric, batting, and thread. And pins. And hand-sewing needles. And fabric shears, large ones and little ones for snipping threads and getting into tight corners. And a rotary cutter, mat, and ruler. Extra bobbins. My word. I'd forgotten how much stuff there was for sewing. The prices for the machines were mind-blowing. That night I read the quilting book and the machine manual and thought that I could handle a straight seam.

Over the next couple of days, I cut out the fabric for the quilt top and started to piece the design together. It was simple, but the colorful printed fabric--I was using greens, yellows, and white-- made it look more complex that it really was. Then I sewed the back together and assembled the layers with a water-soluble adhesive spray, snapping the center of the quilt into a hoop. I'd decided to do the quilting by hand; it was a small quilt and I needed to relearn hand-stitching. I was just going to quilt the seams, what the book referred to as "in the ditch" so it shouldn't take too long or be too hard. I remembered how much I liked to sew. The house I was buying had two spare rooms; I thought I might make one as a sewing studio. I liked quilting, and it would be nice to have a dedicated space to work on my costume.

I waited in Foggy's office for him to return from the closing. With a smile, he presented me with the keys and the deed to the property. I immediately went over and stood in the empty house. Motes of dust sparkled in the light shafting through the windows. It was quiet and felt welcoming. I pulled out a measuring tape and went to work.

First up was a trip to the home improvement store, where I bought new kitchen appliances, stuff to strip off some rather dreadful wallpaper, and paint in light blues, greens, and lavenders, with a pale pink for my bedroom and white trim and ceilings. I left the dogs at the hotel and arranged for more frequent walking; I didn't want to have to get paint out of their fur. For once, I didn't rush, taking a couple of days to finish and watch the installation of the new washer, dryer, refrigerator, stove, and dishwasher. It looked really nice, I thought, then went shopping for furniture. Everything except the little table I'd left with the Colorado house. I just did the basics; a bed and dresser for my bedroom, a sectional, coffee table, stand for a tv, bookshelves, desk and chair for the computer, an upholstered chair, a dinette set, a cabinet for the sewing machine and a chair for that. Then the soft furnishings; sheets, blankets, pillows, towels for kitchen and bath, rugs. The blinds that had come with the house were nice and neutral and would do fine for now. Things for the kitchen including dishes and pots and pans. A TV. I was pleased when I got back from the stores, the taxi driver helping me in with all the bags and earning herself a really good tip. The moving company was on its way, having also retrieved my car. I had a detached garage and it would be useful to have a car from time to time despite the excellence of the public transportation system.

I made a tour of the fencing to make sure that it was in good condition, and none of the boards needed replacing. I didn't want to have to chase the Scotties around the neighborhood; Daf would be more likely to stay at home. Then I finally checked out of the hotel and brought my dogs home. A previous owner had had a dog; there was a doggy door in the back. They were delighted, and all three of them charged in and out until they were exhausted. I had a security company come out and provide a system for the house, including lights outside. I joined a gym with challenging rock climbing walls in addition to the usual cardio and weight equipment, and signed up for beginning parkour lessons. I spent a few days in the neglected flower garden, having finally learned to appreciate biology. The dogs came out with me, and we met a few neighbors, older people who had retired, a couple stay-at-home parents.

I was struggling to evict a particularly huge dandelion when the hairs on my arms rose. I slapped them down irritably, then took a careful grip on the strong white taproot and pulled. I fell on my butt when it came loose, and held it up in victory. "Ha!"

"A fearsome battle has been won," a genial voice said, and I looked over at the gate. Thor stood there, slightly worried-looking despite his smile, Bucky beside him. I completely forgot about them when two enormous shapes bounded over the fence and hit me, licking my face frantically, crowding me, tails wagging in jubilation.

Sigurd and Torburn. I hugged each one as much as I was able, but they were too keyed up to stand still. "How?" I asked, tears running down my face.

"I was unaware for some time that Baldur had removed them from you," Thor said, storm clouds gathering in his face. The little dogs came running over to see the commotion and were flummoxed by the huge new arrivals. "He felt that a promise to a mortal was not to be taken seriously. Finally I went to Father, who ordered their return to you. They will not be returning to Asgard until your life has run, by order of the Allfather."

It took awhile for me and Sigurd and Torburn to calm down. I wiped my face on my sleeve at last and invited the men in. "They're so thin, though," I said worriedly.

"They went on a hunger strike," Thor said gravely. "These are cute," he noted, his voice lightening.

"The black ones are Scottish terriers," I heard Bucky tell him. "President Roosevelt had one. The other one is a Corgi." I looked up to see Thor with a Scottie in each hand and Bucky extending a hand to Daf. Bucky straightened up. "I can go get them some food," he offered, and I choked up.

"Car's in the garage, keys on the table," I managed to tell him. "It has a GPS system so you can find the nearest pet store. Do you have your license on you?" He nodded, his scimitar grin flashed at me, and he went in the house.

After the dogs had all calmed down and met each other, I showed Thor into the house, putting big bowls of water down for Sigurd and Torburn before splashing some cold water on my face.

When Bucky got back, he found me finishing the last of the binding around the baby quilt as Thor talked about what he'd been doing lately, Torburn laying on my feet, Sigurd's head on my lap, and Thor sitting on the kitchen floor playing with the smaller dogs. He refilled the water bowls, quickly washed out huge bowls for the food, and filled them up. Sigurd and Torburn hustled over. I buried the last knot in the quilt, shook it out, then folded it and handed it to Thor.

He smoothed the fabric. "It is lovely. Sif will be pleased that you thought of her."

"I was a little worried it would be late," I confessed. "Or too small. So I made it bigger." Thor shook his head.

"Our women are with child for almost thirteen of your months." I cringed and he smiled. "That has been a common reaction."

"Do you know if it's a boy?"

He shook his head. "We do not. It matters naught to me. I will love a daughter as much as a son." I raised my eyebrows and picked up Daf.

"Have a seat. Can I get you anything?" I asked. Bucky found the glasses and brought me water.

"You must be dehydrated," he said, smiling as he and Thor sat down, each with one of the Scotties.

Thor sighed. "I have much to tell you."

"I'm listening," I said, and Torburn and Sigurd stretched out at my feet. Daf looked at them curiously and I put her down so she could investigate.

"I was unaware of the intrigue surrounding Rogers' decline," he started. "Stark told me later that he felt I would refuse to keep the knowledge from you, and he was correct. It is the right of a wife to know the concerns of her husband." He winced slightly as Wallace gnawed on his fingers and was silent a bit longer. I could wait.

"Thank you for getting them some food," I told Bucky, my eyes getting wet again. I blinked them away.

"I love GPS," he said with composure. "Good thing you kept your car, what with all the dog food you're going to need." I reached over and patted his hand.

"How's that working for you?" He turned the metal hand over under mine.

"It's amazing." He shook his head. "I've got the strength of the artificial hand with feeling again."

"He touches everything," Thor noted brightly, and Bucky flushed a little.

"I was angry and confused following the restoration of the Allfather and your reactions to the battle. It took time for me to understand your views."

"Natasha told him that if he wanted to understand why rape was such a violation, to drop his pants and she'd get a baseball bat." They both winced. I shrugged.

"I have come around to understanding. I look at my wife and what she has accomplished in her past and how she is viewed now by others, as a mere vessel for an heir. And my mother. What might she have accomplished on her own? She was my father's most trusted counsellor, but she had no place on the council. After you left, things changed profoundly and I have come to realize that while it is part of your gifts to provide a shelter for the spirits of those around you, doing women's work, it is a mistake to minimize your importance because of the organs between your legs. Your metalwork defies the limitations on your sex. Also, there was an HR presentation on discrimination in the workplace." I quirked an eyebrow.

He heaved a sigh. Napkins on the table ruffled in the breeze. "I spent much time with the Allfather to get him to understand these views. It took him much longer, but he understands the injustice and why you were so upset with the threats he made to Hela. I do not believe that he can completely overcome his thinking and habits, for he is old, but he is trying. And when I came to him about Baldur, I did not have to request his action. He bade me to return them to you and chastised Baldur publicly about the value of his word. We took some time to restore these to health if not their full weight before Heimdall set us down here."

Bucky put down an envelope. "Here's their vet records, or...well." I interpreted this to mean that they'd forged some documents so that no questions would be asked by my new vet. "This is nice." He looked around. "Stark hasn't mentioned that you bought a new house."

"I was surprised to be set down here instead of the mountainous state of Colorado," Thor confirmed.

"And with luck, he won't find out yet," I said. Somewhere, Thor had picked up the human gesture of zipping his lips. Bucky and I laughed.

"How long are you guys here for?" I asked.

"We'll go back with some equipment day after tomorrow," Bucky said.

"I'd like to invite you for dinner tomorrow, then." They both accepted quickly, and I smiled.

"What are you planning on doing?" Thor asked. "I find it hard to imagine that you would be content removing vegetation from your lawn."

"Partly, I'm here to keep an eye on Peter," I said, leaning back in my chair. "For the rest...I haven't put any plans into action."

Thor snorted in amusement. "We will find out when it is publicly announced, then."

"Pretty much," I admitted after a moment, and fortunately, they weren't offended by my hesitancy to share.

"But there is news in which you will find interest," Thor said abruptly. I looked at him inquisitively. "The Allfather has turned Loki's incarceration over to me to manage. After the events on Asgard, he has lost his desire for rule, but we do not know what he could do, what he is interested in doing. I have determined that he has earned what you call 'parole.' He will be restricted to Midgard, but I will be releasing him soon."

"It helps that no clean civilian photographs of him have ever come to light," Bucky muttered.

I smiled. "If he cut his hair and bleached it some, he could be taken for that dishy British actor. You could send him my way, I could use a roommate. Got a whole room I haven't figured out what to do with yet."

Thor's face brightened and Bucky smirked. "I had hoped you would offer to assist him," Thor admitted. "Are you certain that it will not be an imposition?"

"He's welcome." I smirked. "He'll have to divide up the chores with me, though. Including walking the dogs."

"He likes dogs," Thor said complacently. "He will enjoy the small ones."

"He'll be set up with papers," Bucky assured me practically.

"Let me know when you're releasing him, then," I said, and the chatter got more general before they excused themselves. After they left, I made a list of furniture Loki would need for his bedroom and a second list of things for Sigurd and Torburn. A hunger strike. My poor boys. I woke them long enough to tell them I was going back to the pet store, then their heads flopped back down. They were tired and weak, but I could fix that. I bought a few cases of wet food along with other things they'd need, such as an enormous dog bed and huge stainless steel bowls for their water. Treats and toys for big dogs, plus a few treats for the contingent of little dogs so they wouldn't feel left out or replaced. I added another big sack of food; they needed to eat to restore their strength and muscles. And several rolls of plastic bags for the poop patrol. I probably overbought, but so what? I bought new collars all around as well and extra leashes. There was a dog park not too far from the house, and it had hours during the day when dogs could run off-leash, but we still needed to go there and back and take additional walks.

When I got through hauling everything inside, I was exhausted and stretched out on the sofa for a nap. When I woke up, Torburn had worked his way behind me to squeeze between me and the sofa back and Sigurd was curled up with my feet on his back. The small dogs were sacked out in the sun on the rug. They had accepted Sigurd and Torburn a lot faster than I'd expected. We got up and strolled to the dog park where the big dogs set about winning hearts and minds of those nervous about how big they were, and playing with their smaller housemates. Their pack, I guess the Dog Whisperer would call it. We spent the rest of the day settling in and relaxing together.

The next day I cleaned up the increased dog fur and planned a nice dinner that both men would enjoy. They arrived with flowers and wine and housewarming gifts: throws for when it got cold in the fall and an insert for the non-functional fireplace that held candles (there was something wrong with the chimney). Dinner was great. It was wonderful to spend time with my friends. Thor went back to the tower early for his nightly call to Sif. We exchanged cell phone numbers (I gave him my Colorado number, which I'd retained, rather than my new one, in case anybody looked at his contact list). He was very proud of having acquired this human technology. He kept it with him only when he wasn't traveling by Bifrost or calling lightning, as both of those things tended to fry the phones. Bucky stayed, and I curled up on the couch with him as we watched TV and talked. Thor was right, he touched everything with the improved arm and rubbed his fingers on surfaces. He said he still got distracted sometimes by being able to feel with that hand and arm again. It was late when he left, and I locked the door behind him, arming the security system. I was pleasantly tired as I got ready for bed. It wasn't just the return of Sigurd and Torburn, it was seeing that I'd had a positive effect on Thor and his outlook, and the restoration of our friendship. I'd really enjoyed spending time with Bucky and seeing him enjoy the work that Samuel and I had done on his arm, increasing his quality of life. And I was looking forward to seeing Loki's arrival. My friends. I'd missed them; just how much I was starting to realize.

I wasn't sure when Loki would be arriving, so I went out the next day for furniture. A nice big bed. Thor had said he liked a soft mattress, so I got a really nice one, with soft linens and blankets and medium-firm pillows. I planned to give him the study downstairs rather than the smaller guest room upstairs, moving the books and computer desk up. There was more room down there and more privacy. There was a full bath downstairs that he could have. Towels, bathmat, and cleaning supplies for that as well. Bedside tables, a chair, a dresser, and I found a wardrobe at an antique store since there was no closet. Small desk and chair for that. A standing lamp for the chair and a reading light by the bed, a nice soft rug by the bed. He could find something else if he wanted, but I wanted everything to be welcoming when he arrived. I didn't want to overdo; he should have the opportunity to fill his space himself.

The next day I got back to my concerns. I'd designed my costume. It was the antithesis of anything I'd ever worn as an Avenger. Very much street-level hero fashion in New York. Black, over the knee boots with a kitten heel, fine fishnet hose, black high-cut black briefs, a corset-type top, and a sash around the hips. I didn't actually need tac fabrics since my skin couldn't be damaged by most things, but the corset would be lined with Kevlar to keep bullets from bruising my organs badly. I'd be relying on the Night Nurse rather than the clinic at the tower, and the less that I needed to risk surgery the better. I'd found a corset pattern that provided the absolute maximum of lift, and padded it besides. Promotions would have keeled over if they'd seen what I was planning to wear. I wanted to put as much distance between this persona and Paladin as possible. Paladin had been pretty asexual for the most part and modest always, and this was as sexy as I could make it without being ridiculous. I found that I was willing to go a lot farther than my comfort zone when it suited my goals. I'd found the makeup kit and hair dye that I'd used as Paladin, so I wouldn't even need to deal with my hair. I had a voice modulator concealed under a scarf that I wore like a wild west villain over my lower face. I really didn't think there was any way to easily make connections between Paladin and new me.

Not being super powered, I was going to have to rely on tech goodies, like Batman. I'd made the assembly for an arrowhead with a grappling hook for Clint, and it wasn't turning out to be hard to rejigger it for a handgun-style projectile. I had throwing knives, the ends of my sash were weighted so that I could use them to tie somebody up, throw it at ankles to trip somebody, or flick it around the throat to strangle somebody into unconsciousness. I'd read about the use of scarves like that in the antique cult of thugee. For my personal weapon, I had a quarterstaff that collapsed like a baton. I was making wide cuff bracelets that held the throwing knives as well as pepper spray that I could activate with a lever similar to Peter and his webbing. Yep, I was ripping off everybody. The grappling hook went into my boot and the baton under my hip sash. I'd worked with an old voice modulator until I tuned my voice into a sexy purr. I went to Mood for the fabrics, getting black spandex, neoprene, and mesh, and a heavy plum-colored satin for the sash and mask. I'd had to order the kevlar. I bought a dress form and all the notions, and worked hard over a period of days to create the look. Some of it was easy; I bought the boots and fishnets; the corset was the most fiddly part. It didn't really constrict me since I was going to be need to be able to breathe hard while chasing the criminal element; I used the mesh in panels on the sides, both for ventilation and give. It laced up the back, but that was for show. There was a zipper up the front that was concealed by a placket and heavy duty hooks.

I felt great until the first time I put it on. I immediately wanted to put on a muumuu over the top, but I couldn't deny it made me into my polar opposite. I felt a lot better about it after darkness fell. I colored my hair black and left it down; it's easier to grab a ponytail or braid than loose hair, and left the house wearing a full skirt and blouse. I stashed these when I got to the edge of the nearest crime district. The rock wall climbing and parkour lessons came in handy as I scaled the wall of a building and started roof running. The different heights of the buildings made it a real challenge and I could see I still had a lot of work to do with the parkour. It was almost an hour before I came up on my first criminal. He was running from a mugging victim when I dropped off a low roof to bring him down. The force of my descent knocked him down, but it also had an unintended consequence.

My boobs popped free.

The guy was distracted and startled; there was no resistance as I rolled him onto his front and secured him with the zip ties I had in my other boot. I smacked him on the head and he lost consciousness. I frowned and tucked the girls in as securely as possible. Obviously a costume modification was required. I didn't want to flash the criminals although it had been helpful in this case. I'd get a reputation.

And then I heard the clapping.


	24. Crime-fighting and wisecracking

"Wow, if that's the way you catch the bad guys, sign me up to get bust-ed," Deadpool said, walking out of the shadows, looking me up and down. I crushed the urge to look down to make sure my nipples were covered. Behind me, the bad guy stirred. I walked back quickly and flipped him on his back.

He smiled at me, trying to focus. "We gotta do this again sometime," he said, testing the zip ties. I looked at him sternly.

"We do this again and it won't be nearly as much fun for you. This was me being nice. You won't like it if I catch you again," I said flatly, pressing my boot heel into his groin. He stiffened. All over.

"I guess it's wrong that I'm turned on right now," he said.

"Yes," I said in exasperation. "Furthermore, you're not going to tell anybody about my clothing malfunction. If you do, this" I flicked the bulge in his pants with the toe of my boot, "will be a distant memory. Got it?"

"Yes," he said, looking panicked.

Then I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't have a burner phone to call the cops on the guy. As the next best thing, I dragged him out to the curb where he'd be easily seen from a passing car. I could hear Deadpool snickering in the alley, but he stayed put. I was in luck; a cop car flashed its lights and stopped in front of me. An officer stepped out and demanded an explanation, which I gave him. Minus a few unimportant details. There was a newsman doing a ride-along, noting the whole thing. As the officer put the mugger into the back of the patrol car, he came up to ask questions, finally handing me a carnation wilting on the pavement and taking my picture.

"Hey!" I said, blinking rapidly at the flash. I heard the doors close and the car roll away.

"Is is safe to come down?" I looked around and saw Spiderman on a fire escape of the taller building.

"Hey," I said, waving at him. He swung down and walked toward me. He stuck out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Spiderman," he said. I started to laugh, and Deadpool walked out of the alley.

"Don't recognize your dear old mom?" he said in amazement. "I'll grant you, she's gotten a lot hotter than when I met her. I had no idea what kind of assets she was hiding then. Wanna come and ride my unicorn, baby?" he invited me.

"Do you have an off-switch?" I asked him in exasperation.

"Right near the prostate," he winked at me.

"Emma?" Peter whispered, backing away. "Holy crap." I'd bet he was blushing.

"It appears to be an effective disguise," Deadpool noted.

"You can't go out like that," Pete whispered.

"I am fully clothed," I pointed out.

"Yeah, but...geeze!"

"She'll have guys lining up to be bust-ed by her," Deadpool cackled.

"Will you stop with that?" I asked in exasperation. Still.

"It'll be the largest mass surrender in history. Almost completely non-violent. She'll practically be the Gandhi of crime fighting," Deadpool continued, ignoring me.

"I made a miscalculation," I said flushing.

"Or two," he said, then his pervy manner dropped. "If, for example, you were accustomed to fighting in a group, you'll find that you need to change your tactics for one on one fighting. Not everybody's going to be overwhelmed by the amazing cleavage and dominatrix getup. You need to get better at jumping and work on your upper body strength. Take out your target as quickly as possible and don't be so concerned about damaging them. You might be strong for a woman, but unless you're hiding enhancements you're not telling me about, most men are going to be stronger than you and a lot of them won't mind working you over. I'd suggest you find an area of town where you can most effectively use your skills and stake it out, like Daredevil used to have Hell's Kitchen. You'll get a reputation that will dissuade some, and the good citizens seem to like the idea of a guardian angel." He patted my butt. "See you kids around!" And strolled off.

"I didn't know when I suggested you move here that you'd do the superhero thing," Peter said.

"That was an oversight, then," I said gently. "It's not like I haven't done it before."

"Yeah, but you were fully covered! And you had a team!" he burst out, and I repressed a laugh.

"And who's going to make the connection?" I asked, and I could see the comprehension dawn.

"Oh," he said. Then a more meaningful "oh," as he thought about the implications as far as visiting Avengers and my current desire to hide my activities.

"I still want to make a difference," I said gently, and after a moment, he nodded and dropped it.

"So what's your crime-fighting name?" he asked as we walked down the deserted street.

I opened my mouth and shut it again. "I haven't thought of one," I had to admit. "Shoot." I could see that there were several advantages I'd had working with a marquee team of superheroes that the street level ones didn't have--a carefully constructed persona, for example.

"That guy who was asking you questions is a new columnist at the Daily Bugle," he said glumly. "Colin James. Sensationalism. Read his column, he'll probably saddle you with something horrible, they hired him for his anti hero bias. You'll have to come up with something fast."

We chatted a bit more, then parted ways. I went back on the rooftops, but a few more hours of patrolling didn't net me any more evildoers. Quiet night. I went home. I had a lot of tactics to reconsider.

I expected not to see the newspaper column for a few days, but it appeared in the online version the next afternoon. I controlled my nerves and grimly clicked on the link.

"On my first ride-along with the police Tuesday night, we struck gold. Several criminals had been apprehended by the burgeoning population of superheroes, but one really stood out. A petty criminal, one Carl Ives, wasn't too concerned about his apprehension. He was too busy focusing on his captor, a hither-to unseen hero. Looking at her, I could see why. From the black leather boots that clung to her fishnet-clad thighs to the corset that showcased a trim figure, her appearance will probably lead minor criminals to submit to her brand of justice quietly and happily. Although most female heroes wear costumes that are tight and revealing, none so far have worn them with such a seductive awareness of their impact. The effect is almost the same as our calculated master (or mistress) villains.

"What saves this beauty from the tawdry use of her sexuality as a weapon is her demeanor. It's as if she sees her delectable curves as a simple diversion. They certainly distracted Ives, who only suffered a few bruises and a light concussion during his arrest and went into the squad car without complaint. When I asked her a few questions, her velvety voice was playful, almost sweet. Her demeanor is poised and mature. I didn't notice until later that she didn't actually answer my questions. I can't believe I didn't mind.

"Ives had this to say. "She dropped out of the sky and took me down. I don't really mind, though. Her tits look amazing. And she smells good, too." His companion in the back seat of the car, who had been subdued by the Punisher, was volubly jealous of his luck. The officer found the wallet of the man Ives had mugged, belonging to a father of three who had just been paid from one of his jobs. That was his rent money. The citizens of the neighborhood have acquired a guardian angel, it seems. I didn't get her name. I'm going to call her Poppy. Her beauty and grace are hypnotic and alluring...."

I snorted and quit reading. Looked like I had a fan, at least for awhile. My identity was surely safe, though. It didn't sound anything like me.

I was working on the solution to my...bosom problem. I was making a bolero of sorts that was shaped to fit over the girls and fastened firmly between them. The prototype kept everything in place; I jumped off the arm of the sofa and down the stairs to check. It was going to take some time to make, and I didn't want to go out every night anyway. Realistically, there isn't any way to prevent crime completely, and I was going to have to restrict myself to solo criminals anyway. Most of the ones in this city worked at least in pairs. And now they'd be alert for me. I thought about what Deadpool had said and worked on my tactics. Granted that he was hard to handle, but I had underestimated him. I owed him an apology. 

Plus, I had other concerns. Foggy was closing on the loft space for my business this week, which meant that I had to get moving on that too. I was taking a couple of courses, one on enameling and the other on repousse and chasing metal.

And I'd heard from Thor. He was releasing Loki next month and would be bringing him to me. Thor had to go back to Asgard briefly and wanted to be sure to be on hand for a little in case we'd misjudged Loki, but Loki also wanted to stay for the birth of his nephew or niece. I told him that I wanted pictures, and updated him on the condition of Sigurd and Torburn; they were improving nicely. If I ever saw Baldur again, I was going to rip his nuts off with a wrench for what he'd done to them or caused them to do in protest.

I added swimming to my training; it was good for general overall strength and cardio, plus I liked it. It was nice to have something I enjoyed, since I also took up boxing. Not simply punching a heavy bag (I'd left that in the house in Seattle anyway), but relearning to hit somebody and take a hit. I needed to toughen up.

With all these changes, I was taking my time on big things. I wasn't going all out on opening my business, I was easing into a social life. Pepper had invited me to a few parties and I was making friends in the stratum of society that the news took notice of. I had managed to elude the cameras so far, but I didn't expect it to continue forever. Sooner or later, the Avengers would learn where I was. I was swimming when I wondered why it mattered, and I accidentally breathed in while my head was down. I had to stop, coughing and treading water, until my airway cleared, then started the soothing, monotonous strokes again and thinking. So what if they knew where I was? They didn't have the power to make me do anything. I was building my life. I'd finally figured out that I was moving slowly on this move because I expected to stay here for the long haul. I didn't need to rush to get projects done and rooms decorated. I had time to pick things up here and there. And I'd thought that one through without a therapist, thank you. I didn't have to be in touch with anybody from my past unless I wanted to. And I wanted to continue my friendships with Bucky and Thor and Sif. She'd Skyped to thank me for the baby quilt; she hadn't contacted me before, she said, because she didn't know what to say. I understood that. And I'd gone out on a couple of dates, one with a Wall Street lawyer who seemed intimidated by my ex-husband and a hedge fund manager who'd been insufferable. Right. Dating sucked. I'd forgotten. The main difference between the last time I'd really made a point of dating--college--and now was the restaurants were better. And part of my unenthusiastic response to the dates was that the bar had been put pretty high. Steve had his share of flaws, but he'd never been boring or relentlessly egotistical.

One bright spot was having Bucky turn up on my doorstep on another supply run. As always, it was wonderful to talk to him and he seemed happier. He was still feeling everything with the metal arm. I'd heard from Samuel that he was working on a sensor net that would provide better coverage. Once he got the bugs worked out, I might have to make a new arm to fully take advantage of the technology. Other engineers were working on better joints. Bucky was only in town for the afternoon, so we didn't have long for this visit. After he left, I had to acknowledge an attraction to him, but I doubted I'd ever act on it. His friendship with Steve was pretty much the lynchpin in his life, and I would compromise that if I acted on my attraction. I didn't want to hurt him, and to be honest, the time for hurting Steve was also past. I just wanted to move forward.

I asked Foggy to go ahead with the public filing for my business. I needed to get my business organized so I could start creating. It had started out as something to pass the time, providing a cover, but now I was really looking forward to the work. It was different from most of the things I'd ever done and I was excited to make something beautiful that wasn't for combat.

I came home after the last class in chasing and repousse feeling really good about it. I needed practice to become really good, and I had a stack of small copper blanks and the gravers. I'd signed up for private goldworking classes; I wanted to be sure that I was doing things correctly. I did not want to embarrass myself with shoddy craftsmanship.

I had to hurry now. There was a party I was going to tonight, a fundraiser for the public schools arts programs. Pepper and I were going to dinner first. I dressed in a great vintage black evening suit with my pearls and skyscraper heels and met her at the restaurant and we took a cab to the venue. We listened to a couple of speeches and arranged our donations before sipping our cocktails and socializing. She saved me from a too-persistent man seeking a date.

"I'm so glad I don't have to do that anymore," she murmured over the rim of her glass. "What was he so interested in?"

"Steve," I said ruefully. "Total fanboy, interested in acquiring something previously owned by his hero." She winced and was about to speak when a couple came up to us.

"Emma," Tony said. "Pepper. Have you met my date?" This was to Pepper.

"Constance," I said neutrally.

She stepped forward for a hug, but I stepped away and went for a fresh drink. Constance followed me.

"Emma," she said. I ignored her as I ordered a fresh drink, club soda with lime. "Emma," she tried again. "How long are you going to ignore me?"

"As long as possible," I stated.

"You've never carried a grudge before," she said. "About anything. We've been friends for so long."

"If we were really friends, you'd have found a way to let me know something was going on about Steve," I said quietly but viciously. "You'd have found a way to hint to me that something was wrong. You've talked to me about your clients before without breaking confidentiality. But you let me go into that...hideous...nightmare all alone. And I know why. You put your boyfriend over more than twenty years of friendship. Dicks before chicks. So I hope you're really happy with your dick, because that's what you've got now. And don't tell me I need to forgive or work through it. I'm entitled to my feelings, and I feel hurt and betrayed because it's a logical response when you're hurt and betrayed. It's not going away." I turned away from her hurt gasp. Pepper looked like her conversation was at least doing better. Of course, she worked with Tony.

"I'm off," I said to her, and we exchanged cheek air kisses.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," she said, and I nodded and ambled toward the entrance, feeling better than I'd expected to. Of course, I was leaving. I stumbled a little trying to avoid someone who'd stepped into my path and found my nose almost touching a very white shirt front. I tipped my head back and looked at a very stern-looking Bruce Wayne.

"Ms Harrington," he said, and released my arm where he'd steadied me.

"Thank you, Mr Wayne," I acknowledged.

"You look well this evening."

"Thank you." I took a final sip from my glass and set it down on the tray of a passing waiter. I returned my attention to Bruce just in time to see him try to cover up the study he'd been making of my cleavage. It was slight tonight, nothing like when I was Poppy. It was kind of weird, though. Wayne never really paid attention to women in public, even the ones he was seen with, and there were a lot of beauties on his resume.

"I'd like to take you to dinner," he said, and I blinked in surprise. We made arrangements for two nights hence, and I agreed to meet him at the restaurant. He offered to have his driver pick me up, but I declined politely. My dating experience lately had taught me to be prepared for a quick getaway. I wondered what he wanted.


	25. Dates and other downers

Two nights later, I got out of the Uber outside the city's most exclusive restaurant. As myself, I wouldn't get in the door, but a doorman held it wide for me after ascertaining who I was meeting. A maitre d' who looked like he was reserving judgement on me until later led me to Mr Wayne's table. I was the first to arrive and checked my watch. I was actually right on time. I bet myself that he'd have an excuse when he showed up that revolved around business, whether to reinforce his importance or as an actual reason, I wasn't sure.

I was a chapter into the paperback in my purse and had consumed a little over half of the not-ample breadbasket that the waitstaff had finally bestowed on me when I'd finally had enough and was about to call for an Uber driver. I found Wayne looking down at me with some consternation when I looked up at his arrival. I looked at my watch; fifteen minutes late.

"I was about to give up on you, Mr Wayne," I said pleasantly, closing the book and putting it and the phone away.

"Oh?" he looked startled. "Please call me Bruce."

"I figure I've been stood up if I don't hear anything from my date after a quarter hour. Call me Emma."

"I'd planned to," he said, still looking a little off-balance. We accepted menus and I saw that unfortunately, it was a tiny food restaurant with pretensions. There were no prices on my menu but lots of descriptions that included "scent" and "trace" and "essence." Geeze. I needed fuel for my metabolism, not a word game. I'd have to stop on the way home for takeout. I had a couple of mini Snickers in my bag that would probably tide me over. I could escape to the bathroom and eat them quickly. We made small talk as we decided what to order. An explanation of his lateness was not issued, which, frankly, was a bit of a mark against him. He ordered for both of us. I hate that. I know that it is meant as a courtesy, but it implies that the woman's preference has been vetted by her date and also that she can't order for herself. The waiter slunk away obsequiously, and the sommelier approached. My input was not sought; Bruce and the wine guy chatted and discussed, and finally an old bottle of red was brought forth. Bruce swirled and sniffed and sipped, and the sommelier finally poured me half a glass before leaving. Bruce mentioned the grapes that the wine was made of and the flavors I was supposed to be tasting. I mostly noticed the acidity and tannins. I'm not really much for wine; I prefer light, fruity whites to reds, a sweet sparkling wine to champagne and beer to wine in general. I didn't suppose there was a beer to be had here.

However, I was on a date here and it would be rude to make a fuss. Most women would swoon to be taken here by the city's preeminent bachelor. I decided to look at the visit as sort of a sociological outing. Bruce pushed the breadbasket closer to me. Really? A big guy like that and he's not even eating the itty little rolls? He had to have eaten before he came. Bastard. I ate the remaining two rolls (they were slightly larger than a quarter) before a composed salad was presented; my plate had five leaves from different plants, a thin crescent of avocado, a tiny section of citrus fruit, and a bold swirl of dressing smeared on the plate. I tried to make it last as we discussed the regional NFL teams, but there was only so far that five lettuce leaves will stretch. He wasn't a fan of hockey, and I wasn't a fan of baseball. We tried to find some common ground in other interests, but I think we were both relieved when the entrees arrived. I had two lamb medallions the size of a half-dollar, artfully sliced, with a pan sauce, three green beans, and an almond sliver.

I could have cried. After consuming my dinner (what there was was scrumptious) I excused myself and hid out in a bathroom stall while I snarfed down both Snickers bars. It helped. For dessert there was a drop of white chocolate mousse the size of a Hershey's Kiss, garnished with a miniscule mint leaf, which I also ate. It was too small to really determine what kind of mint it was. Small cups of coffee were served--decaf, I was informed, no cream or sugar was offered. I studied my dining companion. He seemed no more at ease with me than at the start of the meal and was remote. Depressing.

"So why did you ask me out?" I asked him, setting down my cup. "I'm sorry to say that you don't seem to have enjoyed our date very much." I'd tried to draw him out, told him a funny story about one of the dogs, asked about hobbies, of which he seemed to have none. He squirmed.

"You seem like an interesting woman," he said. "And I wanted to ask if you'd sell me your shares of Stark Industries." I couldn't help the disappointed, sinking feeling.

"I don't do business in a social setting," I said, trying to keep my voice light. "If you'd have asked before, I would have told you that my shares are not for sale."

"May I ask why? It's not exactly a secret that you loathe Stark. We could perhaps arrange a trade; an equal value of Wayne Industry shares for your Stark shares."

"I bought the shares for a reason." To protect Tony from himself when he got bad. "The reason still exists." Just because I want to hit Tony when I see him isn't anything new, and I'd promised that he wouldn't be forced out of his company. I didn't know Bruce at all and didn't trust him to have Stark's best interests. "Besides," I said, "Pepper is running the company now, which is good for the stock and my bottom line. I like to support women CEOs." Bruce ran his own company. Competently, to be sure, but I'm all about boosting women in power. He sat back, looking disappointed. The waiter cleared the table unobtrusively and placed a thin leather folder on the table.

After he'd signed, he stood and held my chair, which was nice. Outside the door, I thanked him for the meal and hopped into a cab. I had the driver drop me at a really good burger joint.

I took a bath as a treat to compensate for the date and Pepper called to find out how it went. "Oh, yeah, I always eat before I go there," she said.

"Why? That is crazy," I said , feeling crabby.

"I don't know, come to think about it," she said. "It's just the thing to do. Restaurants like that are more about who can get a reservation and the appearance of being an elite." I grunted. "So how'd you get along?"

"It turns out he just wanted to offer for my shares of Stark," I said moodily. She was a good friend, booing him and taking my side.

"So it was business instead of a date, he didn't apologize for being late, the wine was icky, and you didn't even get a good meal out of it," she sympathized.

"What there was was delicious, and I stopped for a burger on the way home," I said. "Yummm. Beef. But yeah. Kind of a downer. I wore my favorite outfit for no reason." We arranged to meet for lunch on Friday ("decent portions, I promise," Pepper pledged) and hung up.

I was kind of down after that and made it a point to go out as Poppy for a few evenings. After the first night, I came home and added straps to the corset top, which was still a little problematic. I'd finally figured out that the corset needed to be made from non-stretchy fabrics if I didn't want it to flip down under stress, and bought sturdy black cotton for a fall/winter version. It still had narrow mesh inserts along the sides, but it was just enough to provide some ease for catching my breath and not enough to let my boobs make a bid for self-expression. I was still going to put on straps, though.

Three of the four criminals I apprehended were pretty good about being taken down, but the fourth was another story. I was black and blue after we got through and I found myself wishing for the urumi, but not sharp. The next morning I ordered a bullwhip. The next night I came up with the idea of surveying the neighborhood I'd claimed as mine (not Brooklyn) from the highest spots to look for trouble.

Imagine my surprise when a whisper of movement drew my attention and I saw Batman on my perch. I was starting to feel territorial, and Batman usually was seen in the industrial areas and neighborhoods frequented by the seriously bad criminal class (not my neighborhood). "What are you doing here?" I asked, startled.

"Checking out the new wanna-be hero," he said. "I don't want to have to have to rescue some girl who can't take down a criminal without flashing her breasts."

"Deadpool," I gritted. Oh, he was dead the next time I saw him.

"No," he said. "I saw it go down myself." Oh, lord. My face heated up and I was glad it was dark. "While your breasts are attractive and nicely shaped, they'll lose their novelty and thus their effectiveness as a distraction." As he went on about tactics and strategy, I watched him. His costume was thick, reinforced rubber, difficult to hit hard enough to cause damage, but there was a cleverly concealed heavy-duty zipper that I would assume made it easier to pee. I concentrated on the metal teeth and broke it. I tuned in toward the end of the speech, just as he was turning away, and flicked my sash at his ankles. He went face down and immediately I pounced and restrained his wrists behind him with the sash. He struggled futilely. Silk is a very strong fiber, wet or dry.

"I'm not without skills," I purred as he tried to get free, kneeling on his back. "And I didn't even have to show you a nipple. Pontificating was your downfall." He paused the low stream of cursing a moment. I unwound his wrists and hopped off and down my escape route quickly.

"I'm letting you get away," he shouted after me crossly. I waved without looking up and vanished. Getting one up on the Batman cheered me up quite a bit.

So did lunch with Pepper. We dissected the date; Pepper was of the opinion that he was just so focused on his work that he didn't have time to develop genuine interests, including sex. "I don't think he's gay, straight by default, but I've never gotten the impression he realizes that his dick isn't just for peeing," she said thoughtfully, and I burst out laughing. We both had a good time at lunch; we resolved to meet every other week for a lunch, and she talked me into taking a yoga class with her; she was tired of Pilates and I thought I could benefit from more flexibility.

The jeweler's bench I'd ordered for my business was delivered along with the goldsmithing tools, electroplating system, enameling supplies, and casting equipment I was going to need. It took a couple of days to get things set up precisely as I wanted them; my bench by one of the windows so that I could take a break periodically and look out on the world, the tables with the other systems set up logically. A security company put excellent systems on the doors and windows with a couple of panic buttons in other places in the loft, and I got insurance for the business. The display cases, when I chose them, were going to be placed between my bench and the door since I wouldn't have any help unless the business really took off. I screened off the kitchen area and got a small table with a couple of chairs. I got a special delivery of sterling silver, eighteen karat gold--white and yellow-- and platinum that I immediately popped into the big safe that I'd had bolted to the floor. Then I went around town; I had appointments to view diamonds and other gemstones. These purchases also went straight into the safe, and at long last, I started to work on my jewelry designs. My first pair was a lacy pair of drop earrings with plique a jour enamel. I used bold colors for the enamel that contrasted beautifully with my white hair and wore them in public a lot. People noticed, and before long, I was handing out business cards and had hired a business to create a website that would go live when I opened my doors.

I wanted everything to be one of a kind, no duplicates or mass production, so building an inventory took time. I had sketches for little collections of jewelry as well as kind of random pieces. I wished I could produce a guilloched ground for some of the enamel pieces, but you needed a rose turning engine, and there weren't many of those left. I compromised with engraving the back of the pieces before putting in the enamel.

I woke up one morning feeling just awful. It wasn't just the bruises I'd had from a fight with a criminal the night before, my malady matched up with a report I'd seen on the local news that described a high number of cases of a flu-like virus. I'd washed my hands compulsively but it looked like I still had managed to pick it up. I made a quick trip to the store to make sure I had easily digested foods as well as a thermometer and appropriate medications--the symptoms were gastrointestinal distress, fever, and head and body ache. My temperature started to go up that afternoon and that night I gave in and just stayed in the bathroom. The dogs seemed to rotate in and out for comfort. Nothing was staying down. I thought I'd started to hallucinate voices. One was crisp, with a British-ish accent.

Then there seemed to be a lot of activity. I was lifted up and tucked into bed. The abrupt change of temperature from the warm bathroom to the cool sheets made me shiver, then I couldn't stop. There was a dip on the mattress and a big dog laid down beside me. I cuddled into the warmth, my head just pounding. I heard snippets of speech that I couldn't track very well, something about calling Sam, some special needles. The tones of voice were angry, maybe? Then there was a few new voices, a female saying that something was cute, then something was stuck under my tongue that beeped. "One-oh-four," a new voice said, and I was resettled to lie on my back. I moaned a little, and my hair was pushed off my face and a cool cloth slid gently over my face before ending up on my forehead. There was a pain in my elbow and somebody was told brusquely to "hold this up." I woke up briefly to see a familiar face, then it was lights out again.

It was almost dark the next time I woke up, and a man with dark hair was lounging at the foot of my bed. His smile seemed strained, and he jumped up to carry me into the bathroom, waiting outside considerately until I was done, then sitting me on the closed lid of the toilet and bringing me a bottle of water that was cool, not cold. I drank it thirstily, wincing and looking at a big-ass needle in my arm. I waited tensely, but unlike earlier, I could keep the water down although my stomach was still unhappy. The man leaned in the doorframe and watched me. I saw the metal hand and all at once my brain started to work sluggishly.

"Hey, Bucky," I said wearily. "Glad to see you, but what are you doing here?" My voice was raspy and my throat hurt from all the vomiting.

"We brought Loki out, the others are in town for a thing at the UN," he said. "That's where everybody is now, pretty much. What do you need?"

"Bath," I said dispiritedly. I felt absolutely disgusting.

"Sam said you could have a bath, it might help bring down your temperature," he said, and disappeared briefly. He reappeared with a meat thermometer, which he used to precisely adjust the water temperature, and threw in bottle of fresh-smelling Epsom salts. "He left strict instructions," he muttered, then helped me stand, looking at the ceiling as I stripped off the t-shirt and panties I'd put on at some point. Right, when I'd gotten vomit on my nightgown. Uck. I got in by myself and stretched out, sighing in relief, then asked for a clean washcloth; I usually grabbed one from the linen closet outside when I came in for a shower or bath. My skin felt overly sensitive, and Bucky had to hand me the detachable shower head to wash my hair, then he used a super-absorbent swimming towel to mostly dry my hair. I felt a little better when I got out, even if it was only the psychological relief of being clean. Then I realized I hadn't brought any clean clothes in with me, and Bucky whipped off his t-shirt immediately, putting the long-sleeved plaid overshirt back on. The t-shirt was soft and warm and smelled faintly like his aftershave. Then he put me back into bed, tucking me in and drawing up the blanket so I wouldn't be cold. He stopped me when I was about to yank out the needle in my arm.

"You still might need fluids," he said. "You had to have almost three bags, and you're just starting to drink again. We need to wait til Sam gets back to check you."

"Surprised I'm not in the hospital."

"There was some discussion about that."

"Was that the yelling?" I was getting drowsy again.

"Some of it, yeah. Now go to sleep." And I did.

I woke up later to hear some very emphatic whispers. I recognized Steve's voice, and Bucky, Sam, Tony, Loki and Natasha. I rubbed my head, which still ached and seemed to be spinning gently, which drew attention. I opened my eyes and saw them staring at me. Torburn was pressed against me, keeping me warm, and I patted him.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked, nudging Natasha out of the way.

"Better."

"Open up." He stuck the thermometer in my mouth. "I still think she should be in the hospital. I'm not a doctor, and she's really sick." The beeping interrupted him. "One oh two. Coming down a bit. I want you to try taking some painkillers," he said directly to me. "They'll help with your fever, too." He handed me a couple of Tylenol and I washed them down gingerly with water. It seemed inclined to stay down, and I relaxed again.

Tony brought up a mug of chicken broth, which I sipped cautiously. I drank about half of it, then put it down.

A movement by the window attracted my attention, and I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn't seeing things. "Batman. What are you doing here?" He turned his unsmiling regard on me, and I couldn't stop a soft snicker as I remembered him face down on the roof, brought down by a weighted hip sash. It made my ribs ache. The others hadn't noticed him crouched outside in the tree. I was drifting off again when I recognized the jaw. "Our date wasn't good enough for you to be lurking by my bedroom, Bruce," I mumbled as fatigue took over again.

"Bruce?" Tony said incredulously. "Bruce Wayne?"

"Date?" I heard Steve snap as the lights went out again.


	26. Illness sucks

When I woke up again, it was full dark and the house was quiet. The alarm clock said it was almost midnight. I got up and wobbled to the bathroom, grateful that it was en suite. I took the opportunity to wash my face and brush my teeth and felt slightly more human afterward. I noticed, when I opened the door to the bedroom, that the blinds over all the windows had been put down. I smiled slightly.

"How are you feeling?" that accented voice asked from the doorway, and I jumped, not expecting anybody to be around. When I turned and saw Loki, he smiled and held out his arms. I cuddled in for a hug, not caring for a minute that the room was slightly spinning.

"Glad to see you," I muttered into his shirt. "I'm sorry that I forgot you were due to arrive. I meant to make your bed and put out the towels--"

"It is quite all right," he said crisply. "Between the two of us, my brother and I managed to make the bed." I looked up and he frowned slightly. "All right, the twins showed us how to address the infernal 'fitted' sheet and provided an order for the coverlets, later. Thor and I found you insensible in the bathroom."

"What a treat for you guys," I muttered.

"Quite. Now, back in bed. You are not to become chilled, and your garment is brief." He followed me to the bed and drew up a chair after giving me more Tylenol and water. "The Avengers are here for conferences at the UN designed to address those with powers above your species. Having learned from the Sokovia Accords, this time representatives from prominent groups of supers are helping to craft the guidelines. My brother is discussing the idea of having an embassy here on Midgard."

"I'd forgotten about that," I said, yawning. The little dogs came in and crowded by Loki's feet. "You've got a fan club all ready?"

"They have excellent taste in companions," he said modestly, and I chuckled. "You, on the other hand..." he gave me a reproving glance. "Are you that desperate for companions that you were willingly in company with a Peeping Tom with precious little in the way of social graces in a silly rubber suit?"

I scowled. "When you put it like that, it sounds bad."

Suddenly he burst into laughter. "Your revelation caused quite a lot of consternation," he said fondly. "The odd man in the costume came quite...unglued, I believe was the way Wilson put it. He apparently felt that his identity was inviolate behind his little domino mask and cowl." He shook his head. "Stark started to badger him, Rogers wanted to know about your social experience with him, Romanov wanted to know how he'd tracked you down--he said that he followed your cab, did you really have to stop for extra nourishment? Does he not have enough money to feed you adequately? And then the stated purpose of the unorthodox visit came out; some adversary of his developed a supercharged virus and he decided to test it in New York; this 'Batman' feels that it was released in the subway. When he was unable to contact you over a period of days, he decided to check on you. Apparently this information will be coming out in the news outlets soon."

A little box near the alarm clock sprang to life. "Good evening, Emma and..." there was a pause as it scanned Loki with a narrow beam of blue light. "Loki. Please take your temperature, Emma." I reached out for the thermometer; after a moment, it beeped and I read it off-- still 102. "Please take a dose of Tylenol, Emma, consumed with at least eight ounces of water. Twelve or sixteen ounces would be better." Loki had to verify that I'd taken the medicine earlier and I drank more water. I got the improbable feeling that the bossy little box was irritated that I'd taken medicine on my own schedule. "I will alert you at six a.m. for your next dose and I will be monitoring you until then. I will summon assistance should your condition deteriorate. Now you need to sleep." A little light on the box dimmed.

"What is that?" I asked.

"It is a portable form of the AI that is in the quinjets. It was a way to be sure you were monitored without having a human attendant who might disturb you. It is thought that you are still infectious and the unenhanced Avengers were warned away by your suitor. The supersoldiers are cleared to visit since their immune systems are stronger than normal, and Thor and I are not susceptible to Earth infections. Wilson will use a filtering mask and some sort of protective covering when he comes to check on you." He reached over and twitched the sheet higher. "Now go to sleep. We will talk later." I chuckled when he got up; the little dogs followed him out.

The AI woke me up at six on the nose. My temperature remained steady and I felt dragged out and gross. I took a quick shower so I didn't reek and changed t-shirts reluctantly. Bucky's shirt was soft and comforting, but the trace of his aftershave had faded away. I didn't want to wear any of my nightgowns--they were all silk slips that were pretty and comfortable, but they weren't warm and comforting. I had to wear my own t-shirt, and I pulled a pair of panties from the bureau as I went back to bed. The shower turned out to be a mistake of sorts in retrospect since now I could smell the sheets; I'd sweated a lot when my fever was so high, apparently. I coaxed Sigurd off the bed and slowly changed the sheets. I dumped them by the door; I'd wash them later when I was better. I wasn't going to ask anybody to do my gross laundry. The AI spoke sharply to me and ordered me back to bed. I kept my mouth shut and did what I told; I was going to do it anyway not that the bed was clean. I felt weak and depressed and sick and disgusting as I huddled next to Sigurd for comfort. Scared too, a little; I didn't want to think of what the most likely scenario would have been if Loki and Thor hadn't found me in time.

I woke up again a little before nine when Bucky showed up with some breakfast: toast, scrambled eggs, and orange juice. "You have to have nutrients, even if you're not hungry," he said sternly. "This bug is taking a lot out of you. Sit up." I did, and he put the tray on my lap. I made myself eat most of it and drank all the juice, and he accepted that and took it away. Sigurd replaced the tray with his head, and I skritched and petted. He sighed in contentment. At nine precisely the AI made me take my temperature and inquired about my symptoms. Bucky and Steve showed up while the AI was giving me hell for changing my sheets. The AI scanned them and acknowledged their presence before ordering me to rest. Steve's eyes got icy as he checked me for hydration and gave me a glass of water.

"Sam went out on a limb treating you here," he said critically. "Least you could do is rest and not undo his work."

"I probably should have gone to the hospital," I mumbled.

"They don't have needles that will go through your skin," he snapped.

"I've got a supply of them in the bathroom and in my car," I said. "There's one in my purse." I rubbed my forehead. "Why are you yelling at me?"

"Captain Rogers, you are distressing the patient, Emma. I will call for a security force to remove you if you don't change your tone." The AI kicked in sternly, and I felt more kindly toward it. Sigurd growled at Steve and draped himself over my legs.

"Fine. Shit," Steve snapped, and marched out. Sigurd whined softly and licked my hand. There was a sigh from Bucky, who'd been leaning against the wall by the bathroom. I'd forgotten he was there.

"Headache?" he asked, and when I confirmed, the AI said I could have another Tylenol. He shook it out of the bottle and gave it to me. I was still clutching the glass of water Steve had handed me. "Ok, doll, take this." He waited until I chugged the water, then took the glass and suggested that I lay down again. Sigurd sat up when Torburn came in and jumped off the bed. Torburn came to snuggle, putting his head on his paws by my shoulder. I closed my eyes, the ceiling was boring. I heard Steve swearing.

"She's fucking angelic for you," he finally said.

"I know your mother told you that you catch more flies with honey," Bucky said patiently. "Maybe it was my mom. Somebody's mom, anyway. You can't yell at her now. She'll start fussing about how she's making work for everybody; I'm surprised she hasn't done that already, she must be feeling really bad if it hasn't occurred to her yet. You know she's really fastidious and apparently she was really bothered. If you want her not to not to clean, you should--" I missed the last part by falling asleep.

I woke up again at the AI's insistence to take more Tylenol at noon, my temperature holding steady. And again at one. I listened carefully, but the house was quiet. I stretched a little and got up, feeling a little lightheaded, so I moved carefully. I brought a book into the bathroom with me and started the water, adding some soft-smelling bubble bath. The Epsom salts were too strong right now. I stood up and stripped off my clothes, then wobbled a little, off balance. "Whoa," I said, putting my hand on the wall.

"Dizzy?" Bucky said, putting his hands on my waist. I jumped.

"Didn't hear you come up," I said in explanation.

"Took off my shoes," he said, and I looked down. Yep, he was in socks. "What's with all the showers and baths?" he asked, his voice soothing, as I put my foot into the water. "You can't wash off the germs that are making you sick."

"No, but I feel better in the water," I said, and gratefully sank into the water.

He pulled out his phone and Googled something frowning. "It would probably be best if you don't take too many, it says that it might break your fever too early and the viruses or bacteria could mount a second attack." I made a face.

"And now for something completely different," he said, smirking at me.

"When did you watch Monty Python?" I asked.

"Started watching a couple months ago. So would you like to explain how you got all those bruises?"

Err. "Not really," I said. "I've taken up a lot of different forms of physical activity," I said to distract him. "Boxing, rock wall climbing, swimming. Yoga." I thought the boxing would do it; after all, fists had produced most of the bruises.

"Yoga did that? That's interesting," his voice was entertained. "Downward dog?"

"No, it's not that exciting a class. Boxing."

"I'd buy it except for what looks like an object hit your hip. Something thin, like a pipe." His voice chilled. He was good at the guessing. It had been a pipe, and it had hurt like a beast. I just shrugged. I had to remember that I didn't have to answer if I didn't want to.

"Did that guy Wayne put that mark on you?" Now his voice was flat and tinged with a Russian accent.

I sat up immediately. Whoopsie. My face flushed, and his turned the color of the star he used to have on his arm. I sank back under the bubbles quickly. "No, not at all," I said. "I don't think he ever actually touched me on the date." His eyes were flat and hard as he studied my face, then he relaxed slightly.

Assassination averted. Whew.

"So he's gay."

"Doubt it," I said, amused slightly. "Just wound really tight. Not every guy thinks I'm amazing, Bucky."

He was about to say something but hesitated, then smirked. "So it must be because of this." He held up the hip sash from my costume.

Eep.

"Is it was some sort of bondage aid?."

"Where did you find that?" I asked, trying to divert him.

"It was in your hand washing. I was doing your laundry."

"Oh, damn it," I said, unable to suppress a tremor in my voice. He looked concerned.

"What's wrong?"

"Now I can't be mad at you for snooping if you did my laundry."

"If I'd known what was in it, I'd have just stuck to the machine loads," he said, fanning himself briefly. "That was a whole education in lingerie." I couldn't help it, I flushed a bit.

"I'll get you t-shirt back to you when I--"

"Already done," he said. "The sheets are in the dryer now, your clothes in the washer." I sighed.

"What?" he leaned forward.

"I wasn't actually going to give your shirt back," I confessed. He looked confused.

"Emma, it has a hole in the arm."

I shrugged. "It smelled good," I said softly, and a confident smirk crossed his face.

"I'd better get out now," I said to change the subject, but it was also true, the bubbles were fading fast and I thought flashing him once was more than enough. He got up and went outside. I crawled out of the bathtub and dried off before dressing and padding out.

"Feel better?" he asked, and I nodded. "Then I'll bring up your lunch. You won't get stronger if you don't eat," he said sternly, and walked with me over to the bed. I got back between the sheets and sighed. "I can't believe you like such a soft mattress," he said as I leaned back on the headboard. The AI scanned me but didn't say anything.

"I love them like that," I said. "Steve needs a really firm mattress, but I'm indulging myself now." He shook his head and left.

He came back with chicken soup, with wide egg noodles, big shreds of chicken, and carrots, celery and onion you could actually see. It looked like a big commitment to finish. There was a piece of crusty bread and a glass of lemonade. Bucky crossed his arms after he put the tray on my lap. "I will feed you like a two year old," he said threateningly, and I meekly picked up my spoon. It smelled good and tasted even better. For the first time in days, I found myself actually wanting to eat something.

"Wow. Where did this come from?" I asked between bites.

He looked uneasy. "I made it," he said cautiously "You have cookbooks..."

"Wow," I said again. "You have very important hidden talents." He smiled. Steve came in, looking tired. He looked at my tray and his eyebrows lifted.

"Any more of that?"

"Yeah, I can always make more," Bucky said, buffing his nails. I chuckled but kept eating.

"Long day?" I asked Steve neutrally after Bucky went back downstairs.

"Yeah, but at least there's progress and they don't want to lock us up," he said. "Can I sit?" he indicated the chair by the bed and I nodded. "I'm sorry for barking at you this morning," he said. "I know you feel awful and it didn't help. It just upsets me to see you so sick." Sam came through the door in a Tyvek suit and respirator, preventing from continuing, and he checked the AI's records.

"You don't look like moldy bread anymore," he said, and I dribbled soup down my front in shock. "You were white and greenish and had these black circles under your eyes, but you look better some. I'm worried about your fever, though," he said as I mopped up. "If your fever doesn't go down, you need to go to a doctor." I nodded, and Sam looked relieved. We chatted a bit more and he left so to minimize exposure. Bucky came up and handed Steve a bowl of soup, grinning.

"Next time eat first, bathe later," he advised and took my tray. "I'll bring some more lemonade."

"Thank you," I said. "That was a great lunch." He looked pleased and paused by the dresser, pulling out a clean t-shirt, tossing it on the bed. 

"This really is good," Steve said, where he was inhaling soup. I turned my back on him and quickly changed t-shirts. Sigurd wagged his tail and picked up the soupy one, running it into the bathroom to the hamper.

"I love that dog," I said affectionately, and snuggled down. Both big dogs hopped up on the bed.

"I"m glad you got them back," Steve said. "I can't imagine how you felt when they were taken away."

"It was tough." I didn't want to talk about it. Bucky came back with more lemonade, a bendy straw in the glass, and a basketful of clean, folded clothing. He poked around a little, putting things away. I started to laugh when I saw the fitted sheet. It was just wadded up. Steve started to laugh too, and I explained how to fold that kind of sheet. It was cute to see them working on it. I slept most of the rest of the afternoon, waking up for the AI's mandated checks and medication. At six, my temperature went down to 101. Maybe I was getting better.


	27. Progress

I was listening to Steve and Bucky talking about the UN negotiations--it was shaping up to be a sensible compromise between those who wanted supers locked away and the key thrown away and no restrictions at all. Lots of room to work there, and they were working on restrictions on supers in war zones and civil wars (aid to be limited to humanitarian aid, which opened up some nice possibilities for those with mutations that weren't combat-related) as well as an order of operations, beginning with negotiations and non-lethal options before deadly force could be used. The negotiations wouldn't have to be extensive, but a sincere attempt to talk down the villains. I thought that it might be the most successful with newbie baddies, because experienced ones weren't going to be dissuaded from their plans easily. Steve was moaning about it, though.

"If you can show normal people that you're considering the effects that you guys have on them, they're more likely to give you a pass on death and destruction," I said yawning. "It'll reinforce perceptions of who the bad guys really are.

"You guys?" Bucky said pointedly. I squirmed.

"I'm not an Avenger anymore," I said, cutting hairs, and he smirked. Steve looked between us, apparently accepting my reasoning, and let it drop.

All of a sudden I broke out into severe sweating and I started to shake from the chill. Torburn sat up and the AI actually chirped. "It appears that your fever has broken, Emma. Please confirm with the thermometer." It had; my temperature was down to 99, which the AI said was acceptable. Without a word, Bucky picked me up and carried me to the bathroom. Steve's eyes narrowed. I waited til Bucky came back with new clothes for me before running the shower. When I came out (Bucky had given me his T-shirt to wear, the one with the holes in the arm, it just smelled like the laundry detergent) Steve was leaving with the sheets and Bucky was making the bed.

Like he was punishing the sheets, the top sheet was stretched as tightly as a drum head. He frowned at it and tried again to make it even tighter. "Um...Bucky, thank you so much for making the bed. I just don't think I'll be able to get my feet down there if that sheet gets any tighter."

"That fitted sheet is messing things up," he fretted.

"The mattress is probably too soft," I said, trying to make a little joke. He looked like something had gone wrong but it hadn't. The only thing in the room that was tight enough to bounce a quarter on was his abs. Or his butt. I looked up from the sheets to see his big eyes. "Oh, shit, did I say that out loud?" I gasped, turning red.

We were saved from melting into a flaming puddle of awkwardness by the sound of Steve on the stairs and Bucky flicked the blanket over the sheets. I stepped away and raised the towel to my hair. Steve took the towel from my hand and took over. I let him; I was feeling superawkward. After Bucky efficiently put the new pillowcases on, he flicked down the sheet. Turndown service. Nice.

"If you ever get tired of Avenging, you could open a B&B," I said as I slid into bed. The sheets forced my feet to flex like I had pointe shoes on, but I said not a peep. I waited until Torburn settled in and the men left to kick my feet free.

That night was the first time in what seemed like a very long time that I slept through uninterrupted. I felt quite a lot better when I woke up. Sam brought me breakfast--orange juice and hash browns and an Egg McMuffin from McDonalds. He was enthusiastic about my fever having broken but concerned about the headaches, which lingered. "I think I should go to the doctor," I said, and he grinned at me.

"Glad you're being sensible."

"I try," I said. "I wanted to thank you for your help. I don't remember a lot, but you probably saved my life. Loki said I was passed out when they found me."

"You were in bad shape, but Cap insisted that you be treated here, like doctors wouldn't know what to do," he snorted. "Dude's either paranoid or didn't want to bother with visiting hours." Before I could reply, he handed me my cell phone and I called my doctor's office. They were concerned and I had an hour to get there.

"You see Franklin, huh?" Sam said after I hung up. "I've heard of him. He's becoming a specialist in superhero mutations."

"Yeah, I tried a normal doctor, but I couldn't find one who wanted to treat me because of the whole skin thing. I'd prefer a woman doctor, but there doesn't seem like there's one who specializes around here."

"So you're staying in New York?"

"Yeah, this seems like home now." I grinned at him. "But I'm keeping the Colorado house, renting it out. If you ever want to take a vacation, I can highly recommend it."

"Vacation? What's that?" he cracked. "Get dressed and I'll drive you to the appointment."

After the physical examination, Sam came in to explain how I was treated and why. To my relief, Franklin didn't make a thing about it other than to remind him that if he thinks a patient needed to be in the hospital he should be firm about getting him or her admitted. "I can't find a reason for the headaches, but I can tell you that the individual who released the disease-causing agent has been identified, he claimed responsibility yesterday. His name is Ra's al Ghul, an ecoterrorist. His goal was to test an agent that would kill weaker people and simultaneously make the stronger ones more enhanced. There have been seven deaths so far, and a few reports of people with mutations who have gained new abilities. Think carefully. Have you shown any new abilities, anything out of the ordinary?"

"My sense of smell seems keener," I said after a moment. The doctor looked a little disappointed, and asked questions before giving me a few crude tests to measure any improvement. I could detect ketones and alcohols far below what he, his nurses, and Sam could detect.

"Great. If this is permanent, riding the subway is really going to suck," I groused.

"It's odd; the other mutations have affected something related, physiologically speaking," the doctor said. "Have you noticed any other alterations, improved eyesight, hearing, memory, anything like that?"

"No," I said evenly. "Everything else is the same as it was before the infection."

"Pity," he sighed. "Other doctors are going to be getting papers out of this incident. Well, the headache might just be a way of your brain adjusting to the new information or just residue from your fever. If they don't get better, come back in and we'll set you up with some tests." He dismissed me, and we walked out to the car in silence.

"So I gather that you didn't tell him about your eyesight," he said as he pulled away from the curb.

"No," I admitted. "I know it's stupid to keep things from the doctor, but...he seems more concerned about what he can publish than about me. I'm good with being a lab rat, but I don't like being just a collection of weirdness. It was hard to find a doctor who was willing to accept me as a patient, so I'm kind of stuck with him, at least for now." I texted Peter, asking him to call after school if he was ok and asking if he'd gotten sick. I couldn't believe I hadn't asked about him.

Because of that, I didn't notice where we were going until Sam pulled up in front of the tower. I opened my mouth, but Sam cut me off. "Zip it, Harrington, fuck that guy." He looked around automatically. "Don't tell Cap I said that. But you need some answers, and you've been seen here before." He hopped out before I could mention that my access would have been revoked when I quit. He escorted me firmly by the arm, ignoring the security guard until we were in the clinic. To my surprise, there was no fuss about getting in and I felt like a jerk for assuming Tony would have taken away my access to the clinic, but on the other hand, maybe he'd just forgotten about it. I was shown into a treatment room immediately, and shortly thereafter found myself shoved sequentially into various apparatus for an MRI, CT scan, magnetic resonance spectroscopy to measure brain function, and magnetoencephalography, which measured the magnetic fields created by nerve cells. They still had my needles, so they took blood samples, and the physical examination was repeated. This time Sam didn't join me in the doctor's office.

"We're prioritizing your test results," she said briskly. "What I can tell you is that there is no sign of any brain tumors, so that should be a relief. Also, we did a scan of your genome the first time you came here for treatment, so we have a baseline for comparison. Your skin mutation gene has been located on a chromosome; there's really nothing to be done about it, it's just information on a gain-of-function mutation. Your eyesight is not a genetic mutation; there's some very distinct unique organs that formed along the optic nerve and occipital where the information is processed, we've also observed some changes to the eye itself, as you'd expect." She showed me the abnormalities on the scans as we spoke. She clicked on a new notice and swung the monitor in for a closer look. I waited. After awhile, she spoke.

"This is very interesting." I was a little worried; whenever I said that, it meant that there was something weird going on that I could investigate. The doctor swung the monitor where I could see it again. "See here, this is the frontal lobe, which regulates smell, speech, motor control, concentration, problem solving, planning. There aren't any new structures, which indicates that this is a sharpening of your sense rather than a whole new level." That was a relief. "Now, look at this. Looking at function and the nerves' fields, there's a huge amount of activity in the parietal lobe, which governs visual attention, sensations of touch and pressure, and the integration of the senses, along with the frontal lobe. So in the absence of physical abnormalities, I'm thinking your headaches are due to all this activity. It suggests to me that your brain might be preparing for new changes, since it's already shown it can adapt to the right stimuli." She picked up the phone and asked for a nurse, who came in with a little black box.

"It's programmed," the nurse reported, and left.

"This is an AI, very sophisticated--"

"It's one of Tony's, right?" i asked. "Sam had one in my room when I was really sick."

"Excellent," she said approvingly. "I'll want to see that data, and it makes you familiar with the system. Keep this with you whenever you sit or lie down for an extended period and it will monitor you. I want you back in a week for a checkup, but come sooner if the headaches get worse or don't start to taper off. It would be handy if you could drop off the other AI or mail it in before the appointment."

When I left the office, I had a list of foods to eat and supplements to take to support all that brain activity and orders to rest as much as possible. I read a text from Peter saying that he wasn't taking the subway and was ok. I wasn't going to have any trouble with the last one; just seeing the two doctors had worn me out. Sam dropped me home and went to the drug store for the supplements. When I woke up, it was getting dark and I was thirsty. I found Loki watching TV in the living room, cursing as he kept losing at Jeopardy.

"Why do you think you're going to know the answers?" I asked curiously, and he spun around, a smile blooming on his face.

"It's a way to become familiar with cultural knowledge," he said off-handedly. "Come sit down in the kitchen and I will heat your dinner. Barnes left soup for you and Wilson brought you dietary supplements that you must take with food." He shepherded me into the kitchen and dove into the refrigerator, starting me off with more lemonade. We chatted about what he thought about the city--he'd started off with tourist sites and was, predictably, enthralled with the New York Public Library in general and the main branch with its iconic lions in particular. The Avengers had created papers for him that had enabled him to get a New York ID and a social security number. He was now "Laurence Lord," which made me grin.

"Lord Laurence?" I asked, and he smirked.

"I like the haircut," I said. He'd had it shortened and it had a gentle wave to it.

"It's an adjustment, yet I find that I experience an increase in the notice of women in my vicinity," he said smugly. The smirk dropped away. "I must thank you, most sincerely, for your willingness to host me. I have much to atone for."

I got up to give him a hug as he stirred the soup on the stove. "We're friends, right? It's what friends do." He stood still as a statue.

"I don't really have friends," he said quietly. "There was Thor, and Thor's friends, who now hate the sight of me. Not without reason."

"We are friends," I affirmed. "You saved my life, I give you a place to stay. It all balances out in the end." He put his arm around me for a squeeze, and kissed the top of my head.

"Sit down now," was all he said, but he sat with me while I ate and looked over the dietary sheets that the doctor had given me. "What is a 'milk shake'?" he asked, puzzled. I lit up.

"As a food item, it's a blend of ice cream and milk, and sometimes flavorings or delicious things like fruit or candy. Let me show you how to make it." I hauled out the blender and found a couple of pints of vanilla Haagen Das in the freezer. In short order we were sipping chocolate shakes in front of the TV.

"This compensates for much," he said contentedly.

"Indeed." I asked questions about what he was seeing and doing. He was enjoying seeing things, but seemed to be having difficulty with directions and understanding cultural things. I grinned. "Let me show you how to surf the net." While he was puzzling that out, I got my laptop and pulled up my browser. I got him set up with an email account and showed him Google and how to use it. The first thing I searched for was a discussion of what the internet was and how to use it. "I'm afraid that this will have to be an self-guided experience," I said apologetically. "My headache is getting worse. If you write down your questions, I'll try to answer them tomorrow."

"Go and rest," he said immediately. "I do not want to add to your concerns." I patted his shoulder and went upstairs. Torburn and Sigurd got up, careful not to disturb the little dogs who were all curled up with them, and accompanied me upstairs. It was early, but I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed. I remembered my new cube and retrieved it guiltily. It lit up went I activated it and scanned me.

"You are fatigued, Emma," it said. "You require rest." I immediately nicknamed the box Captain Obvious and turned down the sheets, arranging myself in the middle. The dogs jumped up and settled in, one on a side.

I woke up later, needing to use the bathroom, and blinked at the light. It was past one o'clock. Steve was in the chair, a draft copy open on his lap, head supported on his fist as he dozed. I was torn. He looked exhausted and I didn't want to wake him, but I really needed to pee.

Bladder won. I actually almost made it to the bathroom before he woke up. "Emma?" he asked drowsily.

"Back in a sec," I said, and closed the door behind me.

He looked alert when I came back. I've never been able to discern whether he really was as alert as he looked or if he was just a really good actor. "Sam briefed me, but he didn't have a lot of information from the second doctor."

"It summarizes that my brain has been turned up to eleven," I said, yawning and sitting on the edge of the bed. "I go back in a week for a checkup."

"Yeah, but what does that mean?"

"We don't really know, exactly. There are two lobes of my brain that are hyperactive. The doctor thinks that the brain is preparing itself for something. Won't know what it is unless the activity slows down or...something else pops up. What are you reading?" I asked curiously.

"The proposed agreement from the UN," he said morosely. "For such a contentious subject, it's awfully boring."

"You going to sign this one?"

"Probably, after I've read it all. I just want to make sure there aren't any nasty surprises. The challenge is to keep Tony from just leaping in. You'd think he'd know better than to sign anything without reading it first." He stretched. "Do you mind if I stay on the sofa tonight?"

"Sure," I said, and tossed him the other pillow. "There are a couple of blankets down there."

"Thanks," he said, and stroked my hair once before walking toward the door. I waited until he got down the stairs before turning off the light and going back to sleep. It only lasted a couple of hours. I woke up around three and picked up my tablet. It wasn't until I made a couple of purchases that I relaxed enough to go back to sleep, and woke up around eight. The light was dim, and I was confused until I realized that the blinds were all closed tightly. I snorted a laugh. I'm sure Batman wasn't squatting in the trees anymore. I got up, showered, and dressed, opening the blinds. I like to see the light. So I was actually pretty surprised to see an envelope with my name on it stuck to the window.


	28. Hitting the streets

The letter was indeed from Batman and was an offer to get me in to see his personal physician if I needed one. Huh. He signed it with a little cartoon of his mask and the cowl with the ears, a bit of whimsy that took me completely by surprise and made me slightly rethink "Batstiff," as Sam had nicknamed him. But what to do, how to get word to him confidentially? In the end, I wrote on the note that I'd gotten treatment, was going to be fine, and included a thank you. I folded it differently and stuck it to the window in a different manner, leaving that blind down low enough to cover its presence. I didn't want to deal with the others about this. The next morning the note was gone.

I spent the week resting a lot, trying not to use my brain much. I started taking the paper edition of the New York Times for Loki, so he could start building an understanding of our culture and nation, and the laptop I'd ordered for him arrived. We had a chat about viruses; he'd crashed mine on a porn site. I'd been struck dumb by the confession, then I'd started to laugh.

"There are so many sites out there that show sex," he'd said primly, although he'd turned a fetching shade of red. "Such a stunning variety of...situations." I made him read information about safe website browsing.

The work at the UN was winding down; the agreements on superpowers was almost ready to be signed and Thor had gotten approval for a diplomatic mission to Earth, headquartered in New York city. Although it was based in Stark Tower for the moment, he would be looking for other quarters. He and the others would be returning to Seattle in a couple of days. Loki was still a sore spot with New Yorkers, and his presence was a closely-held secret, so he wouldn't be involved directly. He and the twins were out exploring they day I was due for my checkup; Sam and Steve and Bucky were downstairs. Sam was going to take me to the doctor for the checkup, and the other two were just hanging out. I grabbed Captain Obvious and some shoes and started down the stairs, pausing to eavesdrop. Peter was talking to them--what was he doing out of school?

"--all I'm saying, Captain, is that she dealt with your death just fine. Yeah, she was devastated, but she knows it's part of life and she got through it. But when she found that you weren't dead, that you'd lied to her by omission and gotten everybody else to do it too, that's when you broke her. I didn't think anything could. But she was broken, and you did it. It took her a long time to get to where she is. She's still not fixed all the way. So if you're going to try to play around with her again, don't. You've done enough damage. If you do, I'm quitting the Avengers and I won't be available to work with you guys again. You're not who I thought you were."

Yikes. I put on my shoes and started down again. Steve's retort, whatever it would be, was cut off by my appearance. "I'm ready to go, Sam...Peter, what are you doing out of school?"

"Relax, Em, it's parent teacher conference day and the teachers are doing workshops or something. I wanted to see you."

"Aw." I gave him a hug. "I've got a doctor's appointment. We could get lunch after, though."

"Ok," he said cheerfully, and he came with us when we left. They repeated the scans again and compared them.

"So this is your brain last week," the doctor said, showing me. "Lots of activity, but aside from those little organs for your enhanced vision, nothing out of the ordinary. This week, the activity is dropping, you've got the vision organs unchanged, but here we see denser brain tissue in a band that runs across the frontal and parietal lobes. It's not a tumor, not even close, but the creation of denser tissue. It covers the areas responsible for concentration, problem solving, planning, speech, sensation, and body awareness." She tapped a pen. "I don't have any idea what this means, honestly. I've never seen anything like it. I don't know if this was the way your vision organs developed or again, if this is something different. We need to keep an eye on it. I want you back for weekly scans and blood draws.

"Additionally, the AI reports that you seem to be getting tougher. Your muscles are still somewhat atrophied from the illness, but you seem to be displaying more density in the muscles and bones. What this means is that in the boxing ring, for example, it will be easier for you to take a punch and you will have much less tissue damage. It will be much harder to break your nose. It's not impossible, but it will take a hell of a lot more force. We're seeing the same markers in you that we see in other physically enhanced individuals. And it seems that your sense of smell has been heightened but it doesn't seem to be a gain-of-function mutation; we'll know more about this as we scan your genome again. Now, what this means for you. First of all, because of your physiological changes, you're going to have to increase the amount of food you eat, being sure to eat enough protein and calcium so that your body doesn't start stealing this from your muscles and skeleton. You need to get back to exercising, building up your strength. It does not appear that you're going to become dramatically strong, like Captain America or Spiderman, but you will probably see a little bump upward in that ability as a side effect of your durability. Pay special attention to stretching; enhanced muscle tends to get tight and difficult to stretch, so I would advise increasing your yoga to every day or working in dance classes of some type, for example. We need to be sure to support the brain, which means an increase in carbohydrates; they break down into glucose, which is the brain's source of energy. In addition--" I listened as she told me what I needed to be consuming in my diet or through supplements and dutifully took printouts and recipes. Oh, gross, kale. And brussels sprouts. Ew.

I was set up with appointments for the next several weeks. I pasted on a benign face when I went back out; Sam and Pete were the only ones in the waiting room and Peter pounced immediately. "What does that mean, though, in your brain?" he asked, flummoxed.

I shrugged. "Nobody knows," I said. "We're going to keep an eye on it." Somehow Sam had convinced Peter to pick up takeout and go back to the house. I had to explain again to a group which also included Tony and Jim now.

"I noticed that you're not talking about what might happen if the brain gets too dense," Sam said bitingly.

I scowled at him. "I know what might happen. The nerves could die, there could be impairment in function in those areas." A fork clattered to a plate. "But there's no signs of that. The nerves in the affected areas are actually putting out more energy than in unaffected tissue and there's no sign of impairment."

"Would you tell us if there was?" Tony asked, and I shot him a filthy look.

"I wouldn't have to. I wouldn't be able to hide it." Bucky rubbed his temples and jumped in.

"You need to remember that she's not part of the team any more," he said mildly. "She doesn't have to tell us anything, so don't gang up on her." I relaxed, but Steve, Sam, and Tony glared at him.

"You'd tell me, right?" Pete said very quietly as Tony sniped at Bucky.

"Of course, honey," I said, and patted his hand.

"Why him and not us?" Tony said loudly, and I rolled my eyes in irritation. Tony rubbed the back of his neck.

"Because she's practically my mom," Peter said loyally.

"I'm a pretty bad mom," I muttered.

"No, you're awesome," he assured me, and I messed with his hair.

It was pretty quiet as we finished our lunches. I was beginning to see why Steve was such a downer about diet; he wouldn't be able to survive on junk, it just didn't have the nutrients. After lunch, the boys departed, Peter with them (wished I could be a fly on the wall in the car) and I dressed for the gym. No boxing today; I did weight training (I'd really lost strength, it was depressing) and cardio in the pool. I swam lengths in backstroke since it was easier for breathing. It was relaxing to get in the rhythm of the strokes, not pushing too hard yet, just doing the work. Despite what I told the others, I was worried about what was happening in my gray matter. If I couldn't concentrate or solve problems, if my motor control went funny, I wouldn't be able to work, let alone fight crime. It would be hard for me to do anything I really enjoyed, including reading. It was genuinely scary. I didn't want to pass my days drooling and twitching, watching trash tv because I couldn't follow anything with a plot.

It didn't take too long to reach the end of my endurance, and I hauled myself out of the pool and hit the dressing room. It felt good to have worked out, though, and I felt better overall as I stepped out onto the sidewalk. When I got back to the house, Loki had returned and was preparing to go out to see a movie.

"Need some money?" I asked.

"No, it is the treat of Wanda and Pietro," he said. "What I need is a job. I have applications, though." I nodded. It occurred to me--finally--that he might not have a lot of resources. I wasn't sure if Thor really understood economics.

"Well, tomorrow let's go to a bank and get you set up with an account," I suggested. "You'll need one for direct deposit for a job." I had to explain that, and he nodded. As he was leaving, I slipped some cash into his hand. "Take them out for a drink or something after the movie," I suggested. He looked embarrassed, but I just patted his shoulder and went upstairs.

After dinner, I donned my disguise as Poppy under my clothes and went out to my neighborhood. It was early, so I didn't expect a lot of crime. It was mainly to see what was going on, be seen a little. Up on the highest building, I was surveying my neighborhood when I heard a faint sort of 'whoosh'. I looked up from my crouch to see Batman, cape settling around him. I smiled up at him and was surprised when he squatted beside me. I didn't think his suit had that much give. "You're an infuriating woman," he said without preamble. "You were right. I made assumptions about your abilities that were proven not to be true."

"Like what?" I asked, intrigued.

"Because you exposed your breasts, I assumed you were a bimbo who wanted to play at being a hero. It's trending. You have skills that I overlooked because of that."

"Is that an apology?"

"Yes."

"I accept, then."

'Thank you." There was a pause. "You're out early tonight."

"Yeah, I'm tired. I need to make an early night."

"Do you want to get something to eat?" he asked.

"Like this?" I asked, waving my hands at my costume.

"There's a place that won't bat an eye. Plus it's near a con, so we'll blend right in tonight."

I was too intrigued to say no, so I followed him to a diner, run-down looking but clean. Sure enough, the streets had a lot of cosplayers out on them, dressed as real heroes and characters from movies and TV. I saw one of me, even, but the cosplayer had an insane hourglass figure. I felt like a boy in comparison. She saw me too and came over, looking at me a little dubiously. "A for effort, though!" she said encouragingly, and moved on. Batman bumped fists with a few other Batguys in costume variants, and soon we were at the diner; I ordered a shake so I could use a straw and wouldn't have to take off my mask. I was starting to think that he brought me here so he could try to break my identity, but he seemed pretty relaxed and didn't try any leading questions or anything. It was actually kind of nice.

"This beats the last date I was on," he said as he ate a burger.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I took her to a nouvelle cuisine restaurant to try to impress her, but I flamed out, didn't know how to talk to her and practically starved her. We should have gone to a steakhouse. She's smart and funny and beautiful, and I completely blew it."

"Oh. That's too bad," I said cautiously.

"Plus somehow she guessed my secret identity. God," he rubbed his eyes. "She was very ill and I think it was an intuition thing. Blurted it out in front of her friends who were trying to help her. She probably thinks I'm a stalker now too." He buried his head in his hand.

"I'd like to meet her," I said, testing him.

"No, the two of you would team up and my life, such as it is, would be a shambles. I'd like for one woman not to thank I'm a complete moron."

"I don't think you're a moron," I said carefully. "I think you're arrogant, though. Either you're not challenged enough or you've been challenged enough that you think you can handle anything. A little humility is good for you."

He stared at me. "If humility didn't come with humiliation, I'd be more open to it."

I shrugged. "Live and learn, Batstiff." Oh, shit, did I really say that?

"What?"

I cringed. "It's a nickname I've heard. I'm sorry. It was rude of me to use it."

"Not inaccurate," he said after a minute. "It's this suit. It's very...upright. Closefitting." I held my tongue.

We left the diner--he carried money in a utility pouch on his waist--and walked through the pedestrian traffic, which was growing lighter due to the late hour. He offered me a mint from another pouch. 

"Wow, what do you carry in all those?" I asked, fascinated.

"Weapons, mostly, but also the remote for my transportation, a little cash, chapstick, that kind of thing."

"Nice. I should try that out. I don't have enough storage."

"It's pretty handy," he said. "Easy to carry the essentials plus a few personal items."

"Condoms?" I gave him a wink.

He started in surprise and gibbered a bit. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't tease you."

"Then you'd also have to wear something less hot and change your voice, too. That purr goes straight to my cock." My eyes widened in shock and he slapped his forehead. "What is wrong with me? I'm frustrated, nothing new there, but normally I don't have verbal incontinence about it."

"Maybe this is where we should call it a night," I suggested, and he agreed quickly. I continued back to my neighborhood and he disappeared behind me. So weird. Maybe he'd had a touch of that illness too? Hard to imagine either Bruce Wayne or Batman on the subway.

There were lights on when I got home. Loki, Steve, Bucky, and Sam were playing Trivial Pursuit. Sam was the only one with more than one piece of pie. "Where'd you go?" Steve asked, but not in an accusing voice.

"Out for a walk. Got to build up some endurance again."

"Should you be by yourself?" Loki asked.

"I need some alone time," I said firmly. "I'm very grateful for your care and assistance, but I also need some time just to think."

Bucky grunted. "Would you like a snack or something?" I brightened up, and went upstairs to change. Whew. Good thing that I didn't just go in and out my window in costume. I changed quickly from my sweater and skirt into yoga pants and a fleece top, heavy socks--the nights were getting chilly--shoved my costume under the mattress and the boots under the bed, and went down. We all had a late night breakfast, scrambled eggs with crispy bacon bits crumbled into them, toast with spiced peach jam, and orange juice.

I listened as Bucky, Steve, and Sam discussed the signing of the agreement for the next day. "We're going to be relocating back here as a result," Bucky said. "The UN is going to inspect the armory once a year to be sure we've got our non-lethal weapons stocked and in development. I think it'll pay off if we're handy and not looking to hide anything."

"Huh," I said.

"You don't sound that happy about it," Steve said quietly.

"It's a surprise," I said. "Cost a lot to move operations again."

"Stark says that it'll cost less in the long run, we always have at least one cargo run a week out to Seattle," Sam said. "Plus I like New York. Never boring."

"We'll have to be careful not to step on the toes of the local heroes, though," Bucky said, looking at me. I returned his assessing look blandly. "They might not want us horning in on their turf."

"You guys aren't really crime fighters the way the street level heroes are," I observed. "The Avengers go after the biggest threats, not your average mugger." That was my domain, and yes, I was worried that they'd poach my crooks. Bucky smiled faintly.

"I'd stop a mugger if I saw one," Steve protested, and I smiled.

"Yes, but it's not your main responsibility. The heroes around here take their jobs very seriously." I swallowed the last of my daily supplements with juice. "How was the movie, Loki?" He entertained us with a critique of a supervillian/antihero movie that they'd seen. "You should start a blog," I said. "That was a good review." Then I had to explain a blog, and Loki was intrigued. The party broke up, Bucky stayed to help me clean up the kitchen and the others went to pick up the game.

"Don't you think it's a little soon to be out?" Bucky hissed as soon as the others were gone.

"Not a bad guy to be seen," I murmured.

"Still--"

"It would be a lot easier if you guys weren't hanging out here when I got home."

He winked at me. "Get to use that sash tonight? Be a great way to get information out of men, get them to do what you want."

I snorted. "Why, yes, Bucky, I took lessons in bondage so I could keep you guys off my back and under control." He broke out laughing. The other guys came back to see what was making him laugh so hard he nearly peed.

"She said she was taking bondage lessons so she could keep us off her back," he wheezed. Loki smirked, and Sam quirked his eyebrows.

"That's a novel problem solving approach," he said. "You think of opening a dungeon?" I looked at Bucky reproachfully and he rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling.

"I just pictured Stark spreadeagled on a bed, trying to get a housecleaner to cut him free," he said, which set him off again.

"That's an image I don't need," Steve said astringently. "I don't think I get the joke."

"I didn't think it was that funny," I said.

"You had to be there, I guess," Bucky said, wiping his eyes. He herded the others out, and I heard Loki asking Steve and Sam about dungeons and dominatrixes. Steve couldn't get out fast enough.

I smiled at Loki when he came back after locking the doors and arming the security. "I know you're up to something," he said confidently. "You can tell me when you're ready."

"Not tonight," I said. "I'm beat." He flicked up an eyebrow. "Not like that," I said. laughing, and giving him a little push. We affirmed plans to go to a bank in the morning, and I shuffled off to bed.


	29. Beginnings

The next morning Loki and I went to the bank where I transferred funds to start him out with. The account officer's eyebrows tried to meet his hairline but he said neutrally that that the $10 000 deposit was very generous and entitled Loki--Laurence, as he was known in public--to extra bank services. I helped him weed out offers that he didn't need (I wasn't sure how well he understand modern finance) and we set him up with a consumer financial advisor to give him basic lessons in how to budget and handle money. "Thank you, Aunt Emma," he said as we were wrapping things up.

"You are my favorite nephew," I said, and he gave me a peck on the cheek before being escorted to a different area of the bank to meet with the advisor. He said he'd see me at home, so I took the hint and went to my fledgling business. I finished a couple of pendants, then went out for lunch; one thing I liked about the area was the food trucks and restaurants. In the afternoon, I washed enamels and built up thin layers on some earrings and pendants and one brooch. Then I started to work on some cufflinks. By the time I knocked off in time to get to the gym ahead of the work crowd, I felt like I'd made good progress.

When I got home, Loki was making dinner. He was quiet, which I attributed to an active day. "I want you to know that I deeply appreciate everything you've done for me," he said as he dished up large portions of salmon, shredded, sauteed brussels sprouts, and mashed potatoes. I saw my grandmother's old "Joy of Cooking" and a recipe card for the sprouts by the stove. "I know you spent lavishly on media to help keep me occupied in my cell, and allowing me to live here, setting me up with funds...I don't think that I can repay you."

"I can afford to do it, so I do," I shrugged. "I'm not looking for repayment. Besides, you've done an awful lot for me too. I'll never forget your kindness, especially that mess when Steve died. What do you think you'll do?"

"I am looking for work, but I suspect it may be difficult since I have no work experience that would be acceptable on the applications. I think I would like to go to school," he said tentatively.

I was a little surprised. "Do you know what you'd like to study?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"There is a bewildering number of courses of study," he said. "But I understand that all of them have a general core of classes that everyone must complete. I could do those first." He fiddled with his knife. "This an opportunity for me to make my own mark," he said quietly. "To be known not as Odin's son or Thor's brother, but as myself. Or as Laurence, anyway," he shot me a brittle look.

"Ok," I said. "You'll need to take some tests to see where your skills are. We'll say you're homeschooled. Let's do some research after dinner." I got up to put my dishes in the dishwasher. "I'd like your opinion on another matter, before we get started, though." He looked inquisitive. "I'm getting to the point where I can start thinking about opening my store. I need to get some display cabinets. Will you give me your opinion? You have good taste."

"I'd be delighted," he said, looking pleased. Cleanup was fast and soon we were looking at different styles and materials, debating pros and cons. Soon we were both looking at options on each of our laptops, and after awhile, he said, "I have an option for you. It's not what you were looking for, minimal and modern, but keep an open mind, please."

"Ok," I said in interest, and he turned his laptop toward me. He'd found a group of antique tabletop display cases for sale; the glass fronts were gently curved so that the edges of the case didn't cut across a customer's line of sight, and the description said that they were wired to include a light to illuminate the cases' content. The wood was mahogany, french polished, and carved in a variety of styles.

"What this makes me think of is one of those shops that sell curiosities, where you never know what you'll find. It sets the mood for wonderful things to be found. Paint the walls and ceilings white, keep everything plain except for these cases. They'll draw the eye and create a fantasy for the buyer." All of a sudden, I could see it. The floors were light anyway; perhaps a pale rug on top of, pale solid wood bases for the cases, and the five cases drawing all eyes to their contents. I checked the descriptions to be sure that they were in good condition, and bought them on the spot. He sourced some bases as well, lime-washed plain wood with a drawer underneath. I grinned at him.

"I think I have a solution for your joblessness," I said. "I find myself in need of a sales associate. Hours are negotiable, depending on your college prep."

Loki Looked doubtful. "Do you think I'm qualified?"

I smiled at him dryly. "No doubt. You certainly managed to sell me on those cases, and those are completely opposite of what I thought I wanted. I think that once you get the hang of it, my problem will be keeping up the inventory." He looked uncertain but pleased. "Let's try this. You come to work with me, figure out what we're going to need in terms of how the store looks, and you'll do the painting and design. I'll show you how to do it, but you'll complete the work. I'll find you some training for sales, and we'll have a trial period. And I'll be working myself, so I'll be available for questions." He brightened up.

"I...think I can do this," he said, almost to himself. Then he looked straight at me. "I have no experience in trade of anything beyond intrigue and ambition. I can almost guarantee it won't be a smooth transition."

"We all have to learn sometime," I said on a sigh. "And I understand your background. I'll do my best to be patient, but I will kick your ass if you get an attitude." His grin flashed.

"I will do my best."

"You're going to feel like a fish out of water," I said gently. "Like you don't know what you're doing, whether you can do it, and It will feel easy to want to go back to what you know and are familiar with. Ask Thor for a different situation. But I really think you can succeed here, and ultimately be a success on your own terms. It'll take time to discover what you like and what you're good at, find that intersection of talent and interest. But I've got your back. You've got my support as long as you're trying to make your own way. I admire that you're willing to do the work."

"I hope I'm not taking on too much," he said worriedly.

"It's going to be scary, you'll feel like you're out of your depth a lot because you're growing and trying a lot of different things. It's part of growing up and it's good for you. You can always talk to me if you have questions or you think things are about to blow up." He looked somewhat reassured but still apprehensive. "Well, I don't advise you try to do everything all at once anyway. You can't, actually. First, let's get you started at work. We'll also research how to get you into college. Then you can start to work on that. One step at a time." He looked a little more reassured. Time for a change of topic.

"That secret I've got?" I smiled at him. "I decided to be a street-level hero. That's where I was last night." He looked at me in a combination of bafflement and concern.

"Isn't that rather dangerous?" he asked politely.

"Little bit, but I don't just jump into every problem. I intervene where I feel I have a good chance of success. I don't want to get myself into more trouble than I can handle," I assured him.

"Why do you want to do that? There are many others who defend the city." He wanted to understand.

"Because I can make a difference," I said simply. "There are a lot of things that can be resolved by the application of enough cash. I donate to women's shelters, homeless and veterans organizations, food pantries. They can do a lot of good providing services and counseling and housing. But if somebody's been mugged or is being threatened, I can't donate to help that. I can put a stop to it, though." He thought about that for some time.

"So who are you?" he asked. "Black Cat? Black Canary? Er...there aren't a lot of female heroes, compared to the males."

"Poppy," I said a little nervously.

"Poppy? Really?" he looked me over.

"Exactly. She's pretty much everything I'm not."

"How do you do the hair?" he asked, fascinated. "And I wouldn't say that at all. You play a sensual badass. That must come from within in order to be convincing. And it must be convincing; the papers who report on the heroes all say that Poppy is becoming very respected. The victims can't say enough good things about her and the criminals even say that she's both nice and fair. She's being held up as an ideal; a contrast to other heroes who use deadly force without compunction, who will use harsh interrogation techniques." He looked enlightened. "How do you get them to tell you things?"

"I still have some temporary hair dye that Avenger Tech created for me when I was acting as Paladin; apparently I packed all that stuff up when I left Seattle. It comes out easily with a special dry shampoo. I take care of that when I'm ready to come home. I can get the men to spill their guts by tying them up and judicious applications of cleavage." I squirmed. "And...I've been working on a perfume. I only use it if I'm trying to get information, which is really rare because by myself, I'm not equipped to go after an organization. It has a musk base, it's sexy, but I also altered an agent that Avenger Tech was working on for use as a truth serum. I made it an aerosol rather than an injection. So I sit on their laps, let them breathe in the perfume, and when they go cross-eyed, I start asking questions. Information that I get that's bigger than I can handle I spread around to the other heroes I know."

"How does Barnes know? he asked.

"He did my laundry when I was ill and found the sash."

"Why are you telling this to me now?" His eyes searched my face.

"Because I trust you," I said, squeezing his hand. "And we're roommates. Plus I might lean on you to cover for me." I smiled, and he smiled back.

"I can help keep your secret," he said with conviction. "And I have a suggestion. Or two. With the Avengers coming to town, you should consider procuring some colored contact lenses to obscure your eyes somewhat. I heard someone speaking of them when I was at the movie. I might also have some costume suggestions. The top front of your costume doesn't appear to be secure."

I started to search for contact lenses and told him what happened my first day on the job. He laughed until his ribs ached, and we talked about the costume and also a utility belt. I went up to bed feeling like things were looking up.

The next morning, we went to the store, where I explained how the security system worked, gave him keys, showed him around (not that that took long) and sent him to a paint store a few blocks away with instructions to choose the color he liked best and get the equipment we'd need. I'd show him how to cut in and roll, but he'd be on his own. When he got back, a store associate in tow to help carry the paint, the store associate volunteered to get him set up. After the lesson, I tipped him for his help, and Loki got to work. He took a break to get us some lunch, then went back to work. He had the whole loft cut in by quitting time; his selection was a rich, creamy white that was luxurious and it would look like lightly pearlized leather when he got done with it. I took a break and went to an optometrist to be fitted for contacts; I took the prescription with me and ordered the contacts online that night; I selected a pair that had a blue-violet rim that would make my irises look bigger and a lighter violet inside. It was from a line that was designed to look natural, so it wouldn't be obvious that I was obscuring my eyecolor. My boring blue would provide a depth to the color. I was excited to try them and paid for express service. 

The Avengers' signing of the UN compact on superheroes made the news, along with the information that they were going to be headquartered in New York again. Thor had learned to use email and sent his brother a message that he and Sif would like him to come for dinner. Loki tried to play it cool, but he was excited and I was pleased for them both. That night I finished up my utility belt. The belt was shaped so it sat smoothly on my hips and made them look a little curvier than they were. The only drawback was that I couldn't wear the scarf now; I folded it and put in one of the pouches. I used one for lipstick, breath mints, money, eyedrops and a small, unbreakable vial of the perfume; I put a few tools in the others, but the best part was that I had some place to securely attach the collapsible staff and the bullwhip. I'd been practicing hard in the basement and felt skilled enough to use it. It wasn't that different from the urumi in some ways, and less lethal as well as more helpful. I could use it to yank somebody's feet out from under them, pull somebody off-balance, or restrain them if necessary. I had a fruitful night of crime-fighting; I'd apprehended a trifecta of purse-snatcher, mugger, and attempted rapist. I didn't bother at all with the rapist; I secured his hands and feet with duct tape (he was hairy, so it would hurt to come off) and left him on the curb for the cops with his pants around his ankles and his dick hanging out. It made the paper the next day; the cops had thought it was funny.

I had another appointment the next day; the density of my brain tissue seemed to have stabilized at 'very dense' in that curious band but nobody seemed to know what it did or how it affected me. It still had more nerve activity than anywhere else.

A few nights later, I was patrolling and ran into Deadpool again. I was a little concerned for him; he seemed convinced we were characters in a comic book with an audience of readers and addressed them from time to time and sometimes his personality wasn't all that stable, but overall he was a good guy (as long as you weren't a scum bag). Deadly with his katanas, but good, and I have a huge soft spot for veterans who'd been experimented on. "Yes, I have a gun in my pants, but that doesn't mean I'm not happy to see you," he said, making an obnoxious kissing sound as we touched masks. He liked my new belt, made a few off-color remarks about their contents, and introduced me to a friend of his, one Wolverine, a tall, broad, hairy guy with somewhat limited social skills. I kept an open mind, though he almost scared the pee out of me with blades that extended from the backs of his hands. I gathered that he'd also been a test subject at the facility that Deadpool had been...treated at.

"Jesus, lady, get a grip," he snapped, which confused me.

"I didn't say anything." Hadn't had time to even flinch.

"You said 'eep'." Deadpool nodded.

"I heard it too."

"I didn't say anything," I repeated. "You must be imagining things." His hand snapped out and grabbed my jaw.

"Don't lie to me." I put up my hands to try to tug free. He was starting to scare me. Then he released me and stepped back, a calculating look on his face.

"Did you get exposed to that stuff on the subway?" I nodded warily. "Go to a doctor?"

"Franklin first, but he wasn't very helpful. Then I went to another doctor, who was more helpful."

"Find anything up in your brain?"

"How'd you know?"

"I know a guy you need to meet," he said. "Come on." I looked at Deadpool, who flapped a hand at me.

"You'll be safe with him." Then he lunged at me, hugging me, his hand squeezing one of my breasts. "Boobies," he said, sighing. "Just don't let anybody talk you into joining any intramural groups while you're there." Confused, I said goodbye to Deadpool and followed Wolverine down to a motorcycle on the street.

It was a long ride to wherever. My hips were aching by the time we pulled up to an enormous manor house. Wolverine led me inside and told me to sit as he left the room. I sat. He was back shortly with a bald man in a very high tech wheelchair. I rubbed my temple. "I am Professor Charles Xavier," he said. "I run a school for gifted youngsters. Mutants." He looked at me closely, his eyes narrowing. "Interesting. It looks as if you have some special abilities, but you weren't born with them. What can you do, my dear?" Wolverine loomed behind him.

"I was in a chemical accident that resulted in skin that's mostly impervious, a widely expanded range of vision, photographic memory, and the ability to move atoms around." The professor looked interested and asked specific questions.

"Do you think she's related to Magneto?" Wolverine asked when I described my metal work.

"No, I think it's more that she prefers the order of metal," Xavier said. "Erik has always been very careful about siring children." He went on to ask questions about my experience with the subway virus. "You aren't a mutant as we define it, which is that mutants are born with their abilities, but that chemical accident appears to have made you much more suceptible to other changes. Given where the changes to your bran tissue have occurred and your response to pressure, you appear to be able to project your feelings and pick up on those of others. You responded to mental pressure earlier by rubbing your temple. Think carefully. Have others in your presence responded similarly? Have people been saying things that they would normally keep to themselves or that seem out of character?"

I thought back. That lunch after I'd come back from the doctor's. Tony had been rubbing his head. "Yes, when I've been engaged in a topic, I've had people rubbing their heads or necks. People have said things they don't mean to." I thought of Batman, babbling about his sexual frustration.

"And have you in turn said things that you do not intend to or that are out of character?"

"Yes," I said quickly.

He smiled. "You can pick up someone's emotions and amplify them slightly, creating a loop between them and you that feeds on itself. The use of your ability can result in the feeling of pressure, felt consciously or unconsciously. You need to train yourself not to let your ability leak. Fortunately, it is not difficult to learn how." I spent almost two hours with the professor, learning how to shield, but also how to use the ability in a conscious manner.

"It's mostly a matter of practice, Poppy," the professor said at the end. "But if you need additional help, please call." He handed me a business card with his contact information, and I put it inside one of my new pouches. "Why don't you try to wake up Logan there?" He indicated Wolverine, who had fallen asleep on one of the sofas in boredom. I pressed at him gently.

"The fuck?" he said, jumping straight to his feet. "Who's touching me?"

"Interesting, Poppy," the professor said again. "That time the pressure you exerted felt like a finger pressing on his arm." Wolverine was made to be a lab rat as I quickly learned how to distinguish between the two kinds of pressure I could apply. He was grumpy and looking forward to be getting rid of me at the end, and I thanked the professor before we headed back to the city.

It was shortly before dawn when I got home. I slept until nine, then Loki and I went in to work. He was fully rested and energetic, and got the walls finished before going out to look at sofas or chairs for customers and a pale rug to help delineate the sales area from my workspace. I took a nap, waking a couple hours later when he came back. We went back and I purchased two white sofas that were comfortable and very clean-lined and a few ivory and gray Persian rugs. Loki was excited and had several ideas that seemed interesting and helpful. We detoured back to the bank and I set up an account for the business, which I should have done a long time ago. I got Loki a card as well, and told him to take care of what he wanted, just not to go completely nuts. His grin flashed, but he was diverted when we returned to the shop by the arrival of the five bases for the display cabinets. He puttered around, rearranging them, until I was done for the day. We grabbed takeout on the way home, and chatted as we walked down the tree-lined sidewalk to the house. I stopped abruptly at a house two doors down. A realtor was hanging a "SOLD" sign, and Steve and Bucky were standing on the porch. Loki shot me a "WTF" look, which I returned. I walked up the path, smiling at the realtor.

"What's up, guys?" Bucky's grin was huge and contagious. I found myself smiling with them.

"I just bought a house," Bucky declared. "Well, I have a mortgage, anyway." For a second, he looked scared to death, and I sympathized. "I don't want to live in the tower, and this is a nice neighborhood."

What could I say? Damn wasn't appropriate. It's not that I didn't like Bucky or minded him being around, it would just make my nocturnal adventures more difficult. Well, I'd figure something out. "Congratulations," I said, smiling. "We'll be neighbors." He picked me up in a hug.

"That was a factor in choosing this house," he said in satisfaction. He jerked his chin in a not toward Loki. "L-- Lothar?" he said, not remembering Loki's new identity. I burst out laughing. Loki rolled his eyes.

"Looks like you have dinner," Steve said. "Can we come by after a bit?"

"Sure," I said, and Loki and I went home to eat. We'd just finished when there was a knock on the door.

"Your former husband is prompt," Loki said, smirking. I smacked his arm lightly as I got up to answer the door. To my surprise, it wasn't Steve and/or Bucky. It was a man I'd never seen before. Taller than me, he had an open, cheerful face that was pleasant rather than handsome and receding hairline of reddish-blond curly hair. He seemed to be about my age, maybe a few years younger.

"Are you Emma Harrington?" he asked nervously. I nodded, conscious that Loki was moving up behind me.

"Hi. This is awkward, and I apologize for just showing up on your doorstep. My name's Brad. Brad McDonald. We've never met. But I wanted to meet you. I'm your half-brother."


	30. Just all sorts of changes

My mind went blank. "What the hell?" I said, then shook myself. Brad looked a little taken aback.

"Can we talk about this inside?" he asked, and I shook my head.

"No. But have a seat out here." I gestured toward the chairs on the porch. He sat on a chair. I sat on the railing. Loki loitered in the doorway, very quietly.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," Brad began.

"Some," I said waspishly. "Go on."

"I've known about you for a long time," he said quietly. "Sort of. When I had my first girlfriend, Dad sat me down and told me that I had to be careful with sex, to always make sure there was protection, two kinds if at all possible, because sometimes it fails, and not to have sex until I was ready for the responsibility that comes if you get somebody pregnant. Then he said he'd gotten a woman pregnant and had run out on her, and that I needed to be a better person than he was." I sat there and looked at him. "It was a shock. He said that he didn't even know if he had a son or a daughter out there. It wasn't what I expected to hear. I didn't know what to say or do."

"It's rather convenient that you show up now, when she's rich and well-known," Loki said, gliding out of the doorway to stand by me.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Brad asked in bafflement. "You look just like Tom Hiddleston."

"I'm Lawrence Lord," Loki said, frost etching his words. "Emma is my aunt. A few times removed," he added, looking down at me. I almost laughed. "She does not need my protection, but she has it anyway, and it is best to discover motive from the beginning."

"A few years ago, when Captain America got married, there were pictures of them in the media. I thought my dad was going to have a heart attack. He said 'she looks so much like her mother.' So I've known your name for a few years. But Dad is dying. Lung cancer. I thought you might want to meet him," he said to me. "It's kind of now or never."

"Smoker?" I frowned, and Brad nodded. "Any other diseases that he has?"

"High blood pressure. He's on a statin," Brad looked baffled.

"Quick and dirty medical background check for that side of my genetic material," I said briefly.

"Oh. Grandma had diabetes, Grandpa died about ten years ago of a stroke," he said politely.

"Ok, thanks," I said, and stood up.

"That's it?" he asked.

"Yeah. Your dad isn't my dad. He was just a sperm donor to me. When he left my mom, he left her vulnerable to nasty innuendo. People called her a slut to her face and me a bastard. Growing up, it was like we carried a mild but communicable disease, all because that man ran. My grandpa utterly loathed him until the day he died. My grandma who never had a bad word to say about anybody swore with a surprisingly rich vocabulary at the mention of him. Why on earth do you think I would ever want to meet him?"

Brad's cheeks stained red. "He's dying. I wanted to something for him. He regrets what happened."

"Regrets." I laughed shortly. "He may have had you conned into thinking he's a decent person, but he isn't. He could have found us at any time; we never moved. He could have paid child support, lived up to his obligations. Sent a birthday card now and then. Been a real man. He could have Googled me and sent me an email. He didn't even have the guts to do that. As far as I'm concerned, he can just rot from the inside out. And I hope he suffers."

"He is," Brad said shortly.

"Who are you?"

I looked over to see Bucky walking with purpose to the porch, Steve not far behind. Brad's face went white.

"Apparently I have a half-brother." I crossed my arms.

"Really. Any other half-siblings?" he barked, and Brad jumped.

"I have a little sister. Emily." I hated her at once. Her name was too close to mine.

"Why are you here?" Steve, this time. His voice was pleasant, but his biceps flexed menacingly as he folded his arms.

"Our father is dying. I thought she might want to meet him."

"Don't let him guilt you into anything," Steve said to me immediately. Bucky flashed a feral grin.

"You should be more worried about what she'll do," he corrected Steve. "I can picture her showing up to the funeral in a nice dress. Red, or maybe something bright and pretty. Someone asking her disapprovingly who she is. 'I'm his illegitimate daughter.'" He barked a laugh. "That's if she'd bother. Does your mom know?" he snapped at Brad. His hand flexed and there was the sound of grinding metal.

"Bucky, stop," I said, and put a hand on his metal one. "If you break it, I'll have to probably make a new one, and I'm not set up for that right now."

"You made his arm?" Brad whispered.

"Yeah," I said, distracted, and examined the hand for damage. "Looks ok."

"She's quite brilliant," Loki said into the silence. "And I don't say that lightly."

The silence stretched out. "Well, I can see where you meant well, but I'm afraid that your mission of mercy has just gone splat," I said finally.

"I guess so," he said, standing up. "Well, thanks for meeting with me," he said, and offered his hand. We shook briefly, and Brad started up the walk.

"The next arm you make for me, do you think you could build in a gun in one of the fingers?" Bucky said brightly.

"No," I said in exasperation. "Gun barrels need to be straight, and your fingers flex. You know this."

"Poison dart? Tazer?"

"No, and no, Bucky. You could probably kill somebody with your eyebrows when you frown, you don't need any more weapons," I admonished him and sighed as the gate closed behind Brad and he hastened off. "Now, everybody, stop the menacing posturing. I appreciate the support, but I think I made it clear that there's no family reunion gonna happen."

"Yeah, well, I don't think he'll be back. Or that sister of his. Might as well use my reputation for something good," Bucky said. Looking around, I was torn between gratitude, laughter, and wanting to tear my hair out.

"Now that the Winter Soldier knows who he is, he should be properly cautious," Loki agreed.

"He knows that she has people watching her back," Steve said finally. "He'd be stupid to do anything."

I had to remember to shield when Loki pressed his fingers to his forehead. "So, Bucky, when do you close on the house?" I asked, and drew him to the door. I made popcorn and we all talked for a good long time. I didn't go out that night.

I put the sperm donor out of my mind aside from the lung cancer, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, diabetes and stroke; I emailed my doctor at the clinic about it and tried to forget the whole thing. I concentrated at work and sent Loki to the GIA campus in New York to inquire about their programs, especially their professional development programs. He was gone most of the day, which was fine with me. He was being overly solicitous. I know, I know, he was being nice and considerate, and it felt good to feel that caring, but enough was enough. He came back in the late afternoon with all kinds of information, including some program information on jewelry design for me. We went home, and had dinner. Later that night, I was in the mood to kick some minor league villain ass. I geared up and swung out of the window.

I had successfully thwarted an attempted break in at a mom-and-pop small grocery store around eleven, but otherwise I was coming up empty. I retreated to my high point to see if I could see more. Not really. It was a quiet night. I stood and stretched, walking over to the door to the stairwell to go down.

"Calling it a night already?" Batman's gruff voice came from behind me.

"I'll go around for a little longer, but it seems to be a quiet night."

"Good. I'd hate to kiss and run," he said, and while I was puzzling that one out, he untied the bottom of my mask. The modulator dropped out, and he raised an eyebrow to me before handing it to me and leaning down for a kiss. It was pretty spectacular; just the right amount of command. I may have underestimated Bruce/Batman. He nipped my lower lip and licked where he'd nipped before going in for more, deeper. I was surprised to find my nerves lighting up like a pinball machine. His hands ran over my body and I pressed against him. My shoulders hit the wall of the stairwell as he delicately slid one of the straps off my shoulder and kissed his way along my shoulder and up my throat to ravage my mouth again. I felt his fingers peeling down the cup, kneading my breast. I groaned--

And he was jerked back. I blinked, then put my costume to rights as quickly as I could making sure the voice modulator was in place. Batman was down and Catwoman was standing over him, her whip in hand. She looked over at me. I felt a little thrill; she was my first encounter with a name villain.

"Ah, yes, the latest media hero darling," she said. Her voice was as sexy as mine, but it was natural. Although a little snarly, just now. "Our boy is quite a playboy," she told me. "He's always got eye candy on his arm for public consumption, but in the night, when the bad girls come out to play, that's what he really lives for. There's Poison Ivy; she's playing house with Harley, so she's off the books for now, and Talia al Ghul--" she giggled daintily at my start of surprise. "Yes, she's his daughter. There have been his flings with the normals--they always end badly--and a few of your ilk, the heroines, but they never last either...he always comes back to the dark. It's where he belongs. With me, to be precise." She stalked toward me. A couple of black cats joined her. I crouched down and held out my fingers. "Kitty," I said, and one of them permitted a pat before rejoining Catwoman. I stood and she looked at me in surprise.

"I usually consider myself to be a cat person , even though I have dogs now," I said, and she reevaluated me.

She leaned against the wall. "A lot of heroes are love-'em-and-leave-'em," she said in a more conversational tone. "Harley says they're hedonists because their life expectancy isn't all that great. Mind you, she likes to get her freak on with the Joker, so she's got a pretty good insight into all that. The villains are the same way, but they do like things a bit darker, just in case you're inclined to sample the other side. That one--" she flicked her fingers at Batman--"is really the perfect compromise. He's got a dirty mind and the muscles to back it up, but unlike the villains, you never have to worry about the really painful nipple clamps or the probability of domestic abuse."

"Good to know," I said.

"I like your costume," she said. "But bustiers are hard to manage in a fight. I'll never understand how Wonder Woman does it. She probably intimidates it into staying up. Now, generally, the bad girls wear body suits and the good girls wear bustiers, but there's some crossovers, especially with the X-Men, but then that whole crowd is a little more ambiguous. And the Black Widow, but of course she used to be really bad news. The bonus of the body suit is that you can use the zipper to regulate your cleavage and it really does help in the winter if you're showing less skin. You could attempt a compromise with something like a zip-front leotard. Easier to pee in, too." I nodded, seeing the possibilities in what she was saying.

"It would be easier if you could wear a bra, too," she went on, briefly cupping my breast thoughtfully. "You're doing a great job with what you've got, but a Wonderbra would really be a boon. Unless you want to get implants, which frankly, I wouldn't advise. There was one villainess a few years ago who did, but one popped in a fight and she quit the business. You have a nice figure, anyway, athletic and trim."

"Thanks. Yours is perfect," I sighed.

"Aren't you sweet! You might want to try leather; it would play in well with your sex kitten image and it's more durable than spandex, plus if you structure it and layer it, it can help support cracked ribs. But I'd avoid patent leather; I tried that and it just shows every little scratch and graze. I don't have the time to make a closet full of costumes, you know? Day job."

"I agree," I said. "You don't want to spend all night working and then come home and sew. You never get out that way."

"Exactly. You--"

"Are you ladies going to chat all night?" Batman was on his feet, arms crossed over his chest.

"Just a moment, be patient, pet," she told him. "Now I'm no killer, I go in for the sparkly things in life, but the other girls aren't so chatty or...sane, really. So if you encounter them, I'd back off if I were you. Ivy might like you, she's always complaining about how there aren't enough plant-named supers around." She kissed my cheek and sauntered away. "I'll be around, maybe we can talk more sometime over coffee. When the Batman isn't around, that is."

I wiggled my fingers goodbye. "Good night, Catwoman. Batstiff." I winked and he rolled his eyes. Catwoman let out a silvery peal of laughter and they left. I took the stairs down, contemplating what she'd said about the advantages of a costume change.

The next day I went to a Tandy's store and bought some lovely supple leather as well as thicker, more durable leather and a kit to learn how to tool leather. And some heavy-duty snaps. I didn't want to peel off my whole bodysuit just to answer the call of nature. With my luck, that's when a baddie would jump me.

I spent a couple weeks researching patterns and learning how to produce patterns on the leather. It's harder than it looks, so I reverted a bit and made an outline drawing of poppies, executing it in aluminum. Leaves came down from inside the hip to just to the pubis, curved stems climbed the ribs, and the uppermost poppy grazed the underside of the cup. There were mirror images on both sides and it looked pretty amazing. The sleeves were long and I'd tried to use the embroidery function of the sewing machine to put poppy flowers on the cuffs, but the leather was too much. I had to use metal ones there too. I shaped the zipper pull like a seed head, but unless you looked closely, it just looked like an oval. I found a plum satin pushup bra with black lace detailing. Catwoman was right; it looked much better than the corset. I kept the fishnets, added gloves for winter, and changed to boots with a low wedge heel and traction. The utility belt was carefully shaped so that it wouldn't obscure the metal design and I made the pouches on it more streamlined and discreet. Loki liked the costume but thought I was going to freeze in it. I pointed out that I could always exchange the fishnets for thicker tights, and he shook his head in disbelief at my optimism.

"I move a lot," I pointed out. "Physical activity should keep me warm."

One thing he did that I loved was to enchant my mask; as long as I wore it, I spoke in Poppy's voice. I was glad not to need the voice modulator any more.

It took a few days for one of the roving news reporters to run into me. On the superhero page, I got a full-body photo of myself, standing hipshot for the camera. The comments were very positive.

One night around Halloween, I ran, almost literally, into Hawkeye. He was lost. "Hey, can you point me in the direction of an all-night grocery store?" he asked. He was speaking too loud. I showed him where it was, and watched through the windows as he went to a rack and started flipping through batteries. He selected a package, then took out a hearing aid and replaced the battery. I retreated. I never knew he had hearing loss. I wondered if the other Avengers did. Besides Natasha, of course.

Bucky closed on his house and held a housewarming party to which both Loki and I were invited. I went, of course. Loki didn't; he had started a night class at GIA to help him become a better salesman. I took cookies and a present in the form of a thick, knitted throw for the sofa in pretty blue heather. I stayed for an hour, then left. Interacting with all the Avengers was a strain. I went patrolling and took it out on a few petty criminals and a guy Deadpool told me had ties to the underworld. I tied him up, sat straddled on his lap, and waved my vial of perfume under his nose. I'd gotten it strong enough that it worked fast and I didn't need to wear it. I ignored the guy's erection--it happened a lot when I used the perfume--and got some really relevant information. I told Deadpool about it the next time I saw him.

"Right. Shit's goin' down, Delicious. You'll want to stay high, out of range of the bouncing bodies and odd limbs flying by. First there will be utter carnage. Then cake! You can come with if you want to stick around. Maximum effort!" And he was off. I took his advice and stayed up. It was my first experience with his healing factor. It was nauseating and pretty terrifying, all in all.

I tried not to freak out when he showed up after the fight. "Well, that was as much fun as a sandpaper dildo," he said. I tried to smile. "That's why I wear red," he said, groaning. "So the bad guys can't see me bleed. And the babes in leather don't run screaming."

"Is there anything I can get for you, Deadpool?" I asked politely.

"Nope, it all grows back. Wade."

"Wade where?"

"It's my name. Wade Wilson. I think. I don't know that I remember everything from before the treatments right."

"You sure you don't need anything? Stitches, pressure bandages? Swift and efficient medical intervention?"

"Ain't no doc who can fix this," he said. "Did someone say, "Chimichanga"? Never mind. That was just the sound of my skull and brain healing. Tell you what I could use, though. Tacos. You have any idea how hard it is to find a joint that'll serve a guy in a mask and bandolier? They won't even let me into Taco Bell!"

"Really?"

"Yeah."

I came back with a couple boxes of tacos from Taco Bell. I figured healing like that would take a lot out of him. "You're surprisingly cool for an Avenger."

"I'm not a Avenger," I said calmly.

"You were, though. Believe me, I am never wrong about the bodies of people I'd bang. You were that gal with the big knife on a stick." I closed my eyes. "Banging Captain America, too. That's quite the team up. But seeing as how you just bought me tacos, I suppose I can keep that information to myself." He took of his mask to eat. I kept my face calm and pleasant. "And just for that, I'll also stop imagining you naked and screaming my name."

"'Preciate that," I said. I waited until he finished, then stuffed the trash in the bag. He stretched and yawned. "Well, I'm off, Mrs America. Or if your ex was a captain, what are you? Private America? Privates? No, you were bust-ed from the ranks. I crack myself up," he said. I rolled my eyes and went home.

And I almost got there. I was walking up the street when I heard screams from inside a house. It was Bucky's house.


	31. Nightmares

I looked at the house; it was dark and I knew Bucky would have locked up. But there was a trellis by the master bedroom, and I knew that he always slept with the window open, even in the winter. He liked fresh air around him as much as possible, and he adored snuggling under a huge pile of blankets when it was cold. I scrambled up the trellis (whoops, have to fix that part), pulled out the screen, (he needed new windows) and shoved the window up. The only person in the room was Bucky, thrashing around in the bed, muttering and occasionally shouting in Russian. I shut the window, dropping the bag with my boots, and walked to the bed just as he screamed again.

"Bucky," I said in a normal speaking voice. "Bucky, wake up." I didn't want to touch him; he might react with old reflexes, and I didn't want him to regret anything more. "Bucky." In an instant he erupted off the bed, grabbed my throat, and tossed me down on the floor, hissing at me in Russian. "Bucky," I squeaked out as he landed on me, trying to pry his hand off my throat. Jesus, I did good work. I slid my hand up his arm and pressed an area up by the collar, then pulled his thumb back as my vision started to go gray and fuzzy. This froze his hand and arm, which woke him up.

"What the hell?" he said hoarsely, and I squeaked at him again. He sat back on my thighs, and I heaved for breath, coughing and wheezing.

'Bucky," I said again, and he jumped up and lunged for the light.

"Emma, what the fuck....what happened? What did I do to you?" His face was horrified. I waved my hand at him and sat up, then rolled to my feet.

"You were having a nightmare. I was walking home and I heard you screaming, so I climbed the trellis and came in through the window," I said soothingly. I folded his thumb back into place and pressed another spot, then put my arms around him, drawing him close. He was starting to shake. "I tried to wake you but I startled you." I nudged him toward the bed. It was chilly in the room; fall was well advanced. I kicked off my shoes. "Come on, come here," I cooed to him.

Tears ran down his cheeks. He did not change expression; he was shut down entirely. I took his organic hand and tugged gently. He took a step, and another. There was a shirt on the floor, and I put it on him. He didn't resist or help. I smoothed the sheets quickly, fluffed the pillows, and crawled onto the bed, tugging on his hands gently. Step by slow step, he advanced, then collapsed on the mattress. I pulled him onto the bed then settled in beside him. I pillowed his head on my shoulder and cooed to him, smoothing his hair and petting him, trying to soothe him.

It seemed to take forever, but his shaking eventually eased and his tears lightened. Or maybe my shoulder was too soggy to tell anymore. Sweatshirts are very absorbent. I kissed his forehead. "Bucky, honey, tell me what happened," I said gently.

"No," he said, his eyes red. His lip trembled.

"Yes."

"You'll think I'm a monster."

"Not possible."

"You don't know what I've done."

"Not all of it, but I know some."

"I don't want you to know the things I've done."

"What they made you do."

"It's all the same," he said in despair.

"It isn't. Tell me." I smoothed his hair again. "It's safe to tell me. I won't tell anyone else without your say-so." And I really hoped I wouldn't regret saying that. "Unburden yourself," I whispered. He was still shaking and I was getting worried.

He licked his lips, and then started to tell me the most horrific story I'd ever heard. What Zola had done to him before Steve rescued him, falling from the train, being 'rescued' by the Soviets and turned over to HYDRA. The surgeries on his arm, usually with inadequate anesthesia. The training, the savage beatings and abuse under the guise of training. The brainwashing that deprived him of the ability to make his own choices, the strict discipline and scheduling. They had had control over the most minute details of his life, even arbitrarily deciding when he could use the bathroom. The humiliation this sometimes caused him. After they found how successful Zola's work had been, the medical testing. Then they'd wanted to see whether the changes would breed true. They'd dragged women from a gulag to the training facility and forced him to rape them. The breeding program was not a success, and ultimately discontinued. But not until he'd been compelled to too many women's beds. The assassinations. Not always clean, a bullet from a distance. Some had been beaten to death. Some of them had been for the fees HYDRA had been paid, most had been to shape the world for HYDRA's purposes. Angola, during the Halloween Massacre. Hits in Egypt. Columbia, during the Palace of Justice siege, Chile. The US. More besides. Not just political figures, but industrialists, diplomats, arms dealers. Other, slightly more pleasant jobs, like training girls in the Red Room. But even then, compelled to help train them in bed. Not just regular sex, but exposure to more...exotic sexual practices they might encounter from their marks on their missions. And how to deal with violation. Unable to resist, his mind running as fruitlessly as a mouse on a wheel. The girls had had their own compulsory behaviors, including handcuffing themselves to their beds. The agony of having his brain wiped repeatedly. When he'd finally escaped HYDRA, he'd written obsessively in his journals, everything and anything he could remember. He spoke for hours, unrelenting horror.

Dawn was lighting the sky when he finally wound down. He'd stopped shaking when he was talking about the 60's, a particularly active decade for him. He was silent finally. "I'll be right back," I said softly. He nodded and let me go. I went to the bathroom and texted Loki that something had come up but I was ok, giving him the day off if he wanted. I got water, a box of tissues, and a washcloth and went back to the bed. I got him to sit up, and gently washed the tears that had crusted on his face. I asked him if he wanted anything to drink and he nodded, so I gave him water. When he was done, I dabbed some hand lotion from my bag on his face. He sat passively. I crawled back onto the bed. It was the hardest mattress I'd ever sat on. God only knows how he managed to sleep on it. I sat up, leaning against the wood headboard, and patted my lap. "Do you want to come here?" I said gently, and he nodded and shuffled backward. We ended up with him draped across my lap, sobbing against my chest, great wracking sobs that seemed to shred his soul. I stroked his hair, kissed his head, and murmured to him. Eventually he ran down and fell asleep. I held him as he slept, and dozed a bit myself. I woke up when I heard a scuff on the stair, and looked up blearily to see Steve in the door.

His eyes widened as he took in the tableau. "What happened?" he whispered. I considered what to say.

"He had a bad night," I finally said. 

"What happened?" he said again.

"I don't know what I can say," I said quietly, not wanting to wake Bucky.

"This is not good," he said.

Bucky stirred, and I looked down with some apprehension. His hand tightened slowly on my arm as he woke up. His eyes were so swollen that he could barely see. "Would you like a cool cloth for your eyes?" I said quietly. He nodded, and Steve went into the bathroom, returning immediately with a cold damp washcloth. I put it over Bucky's eyes, stroking hair off his forehead. After awhile, he pulled the washcloth off and sat up slowly.

"I need to go to the bathroom," he croaked.

"Need some help?" He shook his head. Steve waited until the door had closed behind him before pouncing on me, demanding answers.

"I was coming home from a walk when I heard a scream. It came from here, so I came up the trellis and looked in the window. He looked like he was having a nightmare, so I came in. I startled him when I was trying to wake him up and he choked me and put me down on the floor. Then when he woke up he kind of had a breakdown. He told me what he's been through, and I don't feel I can break his confidence by telling you what he said. He fell asleep around dawn."

"He needs to get help. He stopped seeing Con after she screwed you over."

"I agree he needs help, but I never want to tell him what he has to do ever again," I said passionately.

"It's that bad?" Steve asked like a little boy, his face looking young and vulnerable.

"Yes." I sat there quietly. "I would like to ask you to be cautious how you say things in the future. Don't demand. Request. Let him choose for himself."

"I see." He started chewing on a cuticle. The bathroom door opened, and Bucky walked out, looking like death on a stick, but an improvement nevertheless.

"What can I do for you?" I asked before Steve could say anything.

"Let me see what I did," he rasped. I got up and stood in front of him. His organic hand tipped my head back slightly and he looked at my neck. He frowned, then pulled my sweatshirt neck down lower. His tired eyes widened slightly as he saw the bodysuit I wore under the sweats. My eyes widened too, and I looked at him imploringly. He released the neck of the sweatshirt and smoothed it so that the bodysuit didn't show. I walked him back to the bed and he sat heavily.

"I need to be locked up," he muttered.

"You need to get help," Steve said bluntly. I glared at him, and he hastily amended this to "what help do you want?" Better.

Bucky sat there a few minutes. "I need a shrink," he said finally.

"You could make an appointment with Constance, or ask for a referral," I said.

"She fucked you over," he said expressionlessly. "We all did."

"You apologized." I squatted down in front of him so that I was looking into his eyes. "I forgave you. It's been put right, between us. And if you want the help she can give you, you should go to her. Getting you feeling better is the priority." I stroked his cheek. "You didn't ask for any of it, and you deserve...redemption. You deserve...to forgive yourself. Your body might have done those things, but it was not done with your volition."

He considered this for awhile. "Show me what you did to the arm. Show Steve."

"I made it so that if there was a problem with any of the workings of the arm that it could be shut down without damage," I said, easing the shirt up and off. "Press here, and pull the thumb back to shut it down," I demonstrated. "Then press here after pushing the thumb back down." Bucky did it a couple of times, then had Steve do it too. "Do you want someone to stay with you?" I asked gently, holding his hand.

"Steve," he said. "Not you. I could have killed you."

"But you didn't," I reminded him. Eventually, he nodded once.

"Can I call Con for you?" Steve asked, and I shot him a smile.

Another pause. "Yeah." Steve looked, trying to find the number. "I need a shower," he said.

"Ok," I said, and he got up.

"Would you like something to eat?" I asked, and he nodded wearily. As soon as the door closed behind him, I hurried downstairs and stopped in the lower bathroom, quickly stripping out of my costume and hiding it under the sink. Thank god. My boobs didn't like being in such close proximity for so long. They're rugged individualists. The bruises were coming out on my neck and they were livid. Then I made a light breakfast and took it upstairs. Steve refused his.

"You need to eat too," I said firmly. "You get cranky when your blood sugar gets too low. And we all need to keep our heads."

Reluctantly, he began to eat, and I made myself eat too. We both looked up when the taps shut off. A little while later, the door opened a crack. "Steve, could you get me some clothes?" Bucky asked, and Steve jumped up. A few minutes later, the door opened and Bucky stepped out.

"You've got an appointment in an hour," Steve told him, and Bucky nodded. He ate quickly and efficiently, although without pleasure, and Steve took the dishes downstairs.

"I want to hear about...that...later," Bucky said, and with an effort, smiled slightly.

"Later," I agreed, and he squeezed my hand, then went downstairs with Steve. I waited until the door closed behind them, and I made his bed, fluffing up the pillows. It was the most unyielding mattress I'd ever encountered, and I was stiff. I thought about picking up, but rejected the idea. It was up to Bucky to decide whether to pick the clothes up off the floor. I picked up the screen where I'd pitched it in, and put it back in the window. I grabbed my bag, retrieved my costume, and went home.

Loki was waiting for me. He touched the bruises delicately. "Bucky had nightmares," I said on a sigh. "I should have stayed on the other side of the room."

"Indeed. Will you be sleeping?"

"Yep," I said with a sigh. On a nice soft mattress.

"I'm going out with the twins. Going to a movie, 'hanging out.'" He said the term with precision, and I smiled a little. "I'll be discreet."

"You're a good guy, Loki." I patted his arm. "Go have fun." He left and I shuffled upstairs to fall face down in bed.

I woke up about six hours later, still tired but not sodden with fatigue. I turned my head so I could see who was touching my shoulder. Steve was kneeling by the bed, chin resting on his forearm as he patted my shoulder.

"How's he?" I muttered, then levered myself up so I was sitting.

"He's home, sleeping. She gave him a sleeping pill, just for today. She doesn't want to risk him getting dependent." He sighed. "Can I sit?" I nodded, and he perched on the edge of the bed. "I can't understand why you like such a soft mattress."

"Life's hard enough without sleeping on a board. Bucky's is the worst I've ever felt. I feel ninety years old." I yawned. "You guys should really stop punishing yourself."

Steve's face was shocked. "Do you think that's why?"

I considered it. "I'm no shrink, what do I know?" I said a little grumpily. "But it makes sense. Mortification of the flesh. Girls cut themselves or have eating disorders because of what's going on in their heads. Combat veterans sleep on the floor when they come back. You guys never really seemed to grasp the concept of comfort." I stretched. "I need to shower."

"You want some lunch?" he asked. It was almost two.

"Yeah." I didn't want to deal with making it.

"Pizza? And a salad?" I smiled at him.

"Sounds great." He went downstairs and I went into the bathroom, turning on the water, then hustling back out to pick up my bag that I'd dropped at the foot of the bed. I sniffed at it and detected a faint trace of the truth perfume. Shit. I must have spilled it the last time I used it. I bundled everything up, pitching the fishnets and bra into the laundry to wash later and putting everything else back into the bag before stuffing it under the sink. A big advantage of the bodysuit over the corset was that I could fold or roll it up because there wasn't any boning. I noticed that my supply of temporary color was almost gone. Too bad. I'd have to come up with an alternative. I showered and washed my hair.

When I went downstairs, Steve was paying the delivery guy. I was starving, and we tore into the pizzas. They were loaded with chicken and vegetables on a crisp crust. I took my supplements and crunched through salad.

I leaned back in the chair and surveyed the carnage. "I feel better," I said.

"Me too." He toyed with his fork. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"My neck is sore, but I'll be fine. Eventually I'll unkink. That was the single worst night of my life."

"You looked like Michelangelo's Pieta when I saw you this morning, with him draped over your lap. He said he told you everything."

"It took a long time."

"He won't tell me everything."

"It's his choice to tell or not," I said, shrugging. "And don't bother to ask. I won't tell you anything unless he says I can."

"Why did he tell you and not me?" His voice was quiet, not petulant or demanding.

"Probably because it was safer to tell me. If I ran screaming, it would have hurt him a lot, but if you'd been revolted, or disgusted, if you'd have withdrawn, it probably would destroy him. And I won't give you details, but what was done to him, what he was made to do, was grotesque. Beyond."

He rubbed his forehead and I checked to make sure I wasn't leaking. Nope, that was his reaction. "I hate the thought of Bucky being damaged. He never wanted to go to war in the first place. He waited until he was called up. He just wanted a nice, normal life with a pretty wife, a good job, kids. I was the one with something to prove."

"I think you've always wanted people to see past your exterior."

"Sometimes you're too perceptive," he said after a few minutes. "You just pop off these observations and I feel like I'm completely exposed."

"I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable," I said politely.

"I seem to be making things worse. This day has been hair raising enough."

"So what's Bucky going to do?" I asked, changing the subject.

"I'm moving in for awhile. I'm the only one he trusts who can control him if he has another nightmare. She's going to see him three days a week."

"Does he need money?"

"I don't think so. He hasn't spent a lot of money. Therapy and this house were mostly what he paid for." I made a mental note to ask Bucky.

"Is he going to need a leave of absence from work?"

"We don't have anything coming up right now. My first instinct was to do just that, but Con said that it would be beneficial for him to do things, keep part of his life normal. So as long as he's comfortable doing that, he'll keep working. Gives him something to focus on." I nodded.

"So what can I do now?"

"I need to go get some stuff if I'm moving in. Can you sit with him until I get back? He said he wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah." We got up and cleared away the few remains of lunch before walking down to Bucky's. Steve let me in through the front door, then left.

Bucky was up, fixing his lunch. I walked up to him, put my arms around him and snuggled against his back. He went rigid. I gave him a little squeeze, released him, and moved to the side. I placed a key and a scrap of paper on the counter.

"It's the security code to my place," I said. "If you want company, you're always welcome."

He committed the number to memory swiftly, then burned the paper in the sink. I blinked. It wasn't that high security. He rooted in a drawer and handed me a key, then finished his sandwiches and nudged me toward the table. "So. Tell me what I don't know about what you had on under your sweats. You're either moonlighting as a dominatrix, visiting sex clubs, or superheroing."

"None of the above,"I said, leaning back. "I'm strictly a street-level hero."

"You're kidding," he said. "There's nobody out there who looks like you."

I couldn't help it, I laughed. "But I promise I'm out there. My disguise is pretty good then if you don't connect her with me."

He started to run through street-level heroes in his mind and I waited. Finally, he looked at my chest, then up to my face. "No."

"Probably."

"Poppy?"

"Yep." He looked at my chest again and I laughed.

"You would be so surprised at what a good, really padded pushup bra does."

"I should have known," he said, shaking his head. "It's so obvious in hindsight. You--she--uses minimal force, everybody likes her, she's sassy and clever. But so sexy. You always said you didn't want to exploit that." 

"Maybe it's a false distinction, but me pretending to be sexy is like I'm acting, it feels different from a bunch of people telling me I have to conform to a certain image so that they can sell an image, merchandise."

"Doll, you are sexy. It's not an act, it's just not blatant." I didn't quite know what to do with that. "But how do you get them to spill their guts?"

"You don't think that the power of my cleavage can compel the truth?" I cracked, then sobered. "This is the perfect opportunity. I have to tell you anyway. I have this stuff from Avenger Tech, it was mixed up in all my stuff and I found it when I was unpacking here. It's a truth serum. They were working on it as an injectable, but I made it an aerosol and mixed it with a simple perfume. I managed to amp it up enough so that I don't actually wear it because I can't desensitize myself to it anymore. It's effective enough that I've never seen somebody hold out against it, and believe me, some have tried. I spilled a little amount on my costume the last time I used it. I know because I smelled it on the costume this morning after I took it off. So you might have been exposed to it, and I am so sorry. I never intended to drug you."

"I don't remember smelling anything. What does it smell like?"

"Musk."

He thought, then shook his head. "I didn't want to tell you in the beginning, but once I started, I didn't want to stop. I've never told anybody even a quarter of what happened, what I did. It felt good to let it out. It felt like the time they had to open an abscess on my shoulder, once I got going. And I'm sorry for hitting you with all that ugliness, but...it was a relief."

"Ok, so this is the last confession. That thickening in my brain has apparently given me psychic powers." Bucky's eyes opened wide, just as the door opened. and Steve came in. I waited until he dropped his bags at the door and came in. "So I know a guy who knows a guy upstate who knows about this kind of thing. The stuff he and his associates can do is crazy. But what I have is projective and receptive empathy. I can't see in anybody's mind, see their thoughts, anything like that. What I can do is pick up on what you're feeling, I can let you know what I'm feeling if I push, and if I push hard enough, I can make you feel like I'm touching you."

"Huh," Bucky and Steve said in concert. I twisted a smile I didn't feel.

"I can make myself not do it and I'm working on making that second nature. But it can create a feedback loop. It's easier to feel what someone else is projecting, and it just makes me feel happy or sad or something, I don't know why they're happy or sad. So I can pick it up and reflect it back to the other person. It can feed on itself." I thought back to the night Batman was yammering about our date and how we couldn't stop saying things. "So I might have influenced you last night. I was very concerned about you and if I pushed you to do something you didn't want to, I'm so sorry. I don't know if I was shielding or not."

"It's ok even if you did," Bucky said after a moment. "What would it feel like?" I concentrated. I was getting tiredness from him and a faint glimmer of something positive. Serenity, maybe, or hope. I reflected the fatigue first, then the little glimmer. He brightened marginally. "It's...subtle."

"I'm not very powerful."

"Do me," Steve requested, then flushed as he realized how that came out. I smiled a little. He was concerned. That fed on itself and started to become anxiety, which is when I cut it off and pushed a small feeling of reassurance at him. He looked startled.

"So how does it feel like you're touching someone?" Bucky asked, and I looked around for the right spot, then pressed hard enough to feel. He jumped, then smiled. Steve looked curious, so I booped his nose too. He laughed and swatted at the air in front of his face.

"That's the last of my surprises," I told Bucky, and he smiled.

"It's been a day of revelations," he said tiredly.

"Do they know about this at the clinic?" Steve asked, and I nodded.

"It just shows up as extra brain activity in that band of tissue," I said.

Steve got up to use the bathroom.. "Bucky, how are you fixed for money?" I asked quietly.

"I'm fine. You were too generous in the beginning."

"If you need help with the therapy bills, I'd like you to tell me. I don't want you to have that worry on top of everything you have to deal with."

"There's a mental health benefit in the Avengers' insurance," he said. "It's generous. You'd think that we were all a bunch of head cases." I couldn't help the grin and Bucky returned it briefly. "I don't know if I'm worth all the fuss, though."

"You are to me, Bucky. You're my friend." My control wavered and I let a little emotion leak. "Sorry. It's easier when I'm not worked up."

"You have a soft spot for broken people," he said, and I started in surprise.

"Guess I do," I said after a beat.

Steve came down the stairs. "Buck, you don't have a bed in the spare room." Bucky cussed.

"Let's go get one," he muttered. "I didn't plan on having company." We all got up and walked to the door. As we walked up the path to the sidewalk, Bucky said blandly, "Emma, next spring will you help me put in a flower bed?"

"Sure. It'll look nice."

"Didn't know you liked flowers," Steve said to him curiously. "What kind?"

"I dunno," he said. "Basic things. A rose. Maybe some of those petunia things. Poppies." I tripped. "Careful," he said to me, a thread of amusement in his voice. I rolled my eyes at him, but couldn't repress a small smile.


	32. One thing after another

I was glad to go back to work the next day, an escape into normalcy. Loki brought me concealer for my neck from Avenger Tech, something that went on light and smooth but had the coverage of moleskin, and went to lunch with a classmate, and I went to lunch with Pepper. I had a birthday gift for her, a pendant. She squealed happily when she unwrapped it and put it on immediately.

"I did a bad thing," she confessed, and I looked at her inquiringly. "Seriously bad. This might be the end of our friendship."

"Really?" I asked apprehensively. "What?"

"I was ordering flowers for the opening of your store next week, and Tony came by-" I winced. Stories that included "Tony came by" or, generally, "Tony" followed by a verb generally didn't have happy endings. "He overheard." She handed me a small square envelope. With dread, I opened it carefully. It was an invitation. To an opening party in my business. I sat back so suddenly that my chair scooted back.

"The fuck, Pepper?"

"He wanted to do something helpful," she said, and went to work trying to smooth things out. In the end, the information that the invitations had been sent out to an unknown guest list already was the only thing that had me grudgingly permitting the event to happen.

Loki's reaction was different. His smile got crafty and calculating. "Black tie," he said. "I don't believe I have a black tie."

I sighed. "It means formal. Take the credit card and go to Brooks Brothers or someplace else that's good. Be sure to tell them that this is Stark's fault and the date that we need this by."

He patted my head and took the credit card from me. "Dear Emma. This store will be the place for society to get jewelry after this party. We are going to clean up, I believe is the phrase. And if you do not procure for yourself something awe-inspiring to wear, there will be trouble." He looked me up and down. "Long, classic. I will need to see it." I glared at him and he lifted an eyebrow, refusing to give.

"All right," I snapped, and he took off. Three hours later, he returned with two different garment bags.

"I got my tuxedo," he announced cheerfully. "It is being tailored and will be ready the day before the party. I have two choices of dress for you. It appears that the dresses this season are all highly ornamented. It was difficult to find something clean and classic, yet I have succeeded. They are both of the 'vintage' style and will make the most of your form." He whipped the bag off the first dress. It was a high waisted dress in champagne silk satin, with an embroidered black net overlay that was ornamented with beads that caught the light. A softly draped black band hugged the ribs, going over the breasts and tying just over them. Eye-catching and different. He sent me to change and held my hair up.

"Now the other," he commanded, and this one was a rich dark emerald 30's style silk satin slip dress, bias cut, the front plain, backless. There was a jeweled clip at the center below my waist. The long skirt did not cling to my legs, but it outlined my form. Loki smirked. "Yes. Every woman at the party will look overdressed by comparison. You will wear the bleeding heart flower choker with the plique a jour enamel, peridots, pearls, and garnets. Your hair will be up, and all you will need is a smile and beautiful shoes, which you will have to try on at the store."

"Loki, I can't wear a bra with this."

"I know. You will look both sensual and severe. Men will find reasons to speak with you and they will come back to purchase jewels so that they can try their luck with you." I snorted. "The women will want, even subconsciously, to be like you. You need four inch heels with that dress," he instructed.

He took off to return the other dress and I was left gaping. Shit. This whole thing had somehow spiraled completely out of my control.

I went home in a foul-ish mood, having stopped at the tower clinic for a session for my bruises with the tissue accelerator. However, when I turned up the street, Bucky and Steve were ripping the derelict fence out. They were in their shirtsleeves, t-shirts plastered to their bodies with sweat, lightly steaming in the chill air. I stopped in awe, smiling as I listened to them bicker. My day was looking up suddenly. They looked around as I came up to them and stopped. Bucky leaned on a fence post.

"Wow, lot of work here," I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Yeah, turns out the fence only looked like it was falling down," he said, smiling. Steve was breathing heavily, one foot propped on the shovel. He looked a little pissy, so I gave his cheek a kiss too, and he lightened up.

And then Tony came around the corner, bringing a wheelbarrow with cement with him. Dammit. I glared at him, and he looked a little uneasy.

"Ah. Yes. Pepper said that you misunderstood, Emma," he said, trying charm.

"What did you do, Tony?" Steve said with a certain weariness.

"Well, Pepper said that Emma here was opening her store next week. I just arranged a little party to celebrate. Bring it to the attention of the right people," Tony said, talking fast. Bucky shook his head and worked the post out of the ground. It really did look like it was rotting, but it was in the ground very firmly.

"You didn't ascertain whether this was something she wanted, did you," Steve said, making it a statement rather than a question. Tony smiled, a bright, slightly panicked look and trotted over to his suitcoat on the stairs. He extracted two envelopes and gave one to each man.

"Moral support. All the Avengers got one. That will bring the press," Tony said, and my tension ramped up. I didn't really want this. I wanted word to spread as people saw my work on people like Pepper, who while being powerful, was also one of the best liked people in the city according to popularity polls. I didn't want this to be like a society event. I had pieces that pretty much anybody could afford, and I didn't want it to look like you had to be rich to get in the door. Bucky put his hand between my shoulders and started working on a knot of muscle. "It's only two hours," Tony added.

He looked pathetically anxious. I reminded myself, very sternly, that he was just trying to be helpful. Loki and I would just have to do our best to make sure that the press understood my purpose. I forced a smile on my face. "I appreciate the intent," I said. That was as far as I could go right now. Tony relaxed a little, and Steve gave me a sharp look as he started to shovel cement into post holes. Bucky patted my shoulder and I went along to my house. Loki was at class, and I was grateful for the solitude. I dropped my bag and went up to take a bath and relax. Or try to. Honestly, I was still really freaked about Bucky and nervous about opening the business. The idea of the party was nice, but it took an important aspect of my business out of my control. I felt really stretched. I liked my work, but was it really good enough to sustain a business past the initial burst of curiosity? Loki said he liked it, but he was a sweet guy who was trying to buck me up. My emotions were all over the damned place. I sniffled and rubbed my nose. I flicked away a couple of tears while I was at it.

I stayed in the bath enough to relax some, then wrapped myself in my robe and went downstairs, making some sandwiches for dinner. I was definitely going out patrolling tonight. Maybe I'd find myself a baddie to beat up, then felt bad about that.

I did find some crime to punish. First was a mugging, a little old man who had gone out to a convenience store for milk. I'd stopped using zip ties to restrain the crims due to the proliferation of YouTube videos showing how to get out of them and moved to duct tape, which was more difficult. I included a lecture of respect for one's elders as I taped his wrists and feet together and escorted the man home. There was a group of a few guys who were picking a fight with another fellow, who didn't take too kindly to the rescue, but he was outnumbered four to one. Finally I said that if I saw him in that situation again I'd just go on my merry way since he had everything under control and left. The final dirtbag was a guy who had a gun to the head of some poor woman and was making her give him head. I overreacted and beat him up before leaving his tiny dick for the cops. I gave her a tissue and waited while she called the police.

"This doesn't look like quite your style, Poppy," one of the responders said, gesturing to the bruises coming up on the guy and his bloody nose.

"He had a gun on her and I've had a crappy day," I said.

"Maybe you should take the rest of the night off," he said, patting my shoulder. "Sounds like your emotions are getting the best of you."

"Mmm," was all I trusted myself to say, and I left. The nerve. Nobody said shit to Batman or Deadpool when they went a little too far. And that point for them usually put the bad guy in the hospital if not the morgue. Sexist jerks.

Loki spent his time at work working on the displays in the beautiful, ornate cases. I kept my head down and worked on new pieces. Every time I thought about the party I wanted to throw up.

The day before the opening, I stepped outside to find a group of reporters waiting for me on my lawn. "Ms Harrington, were you aware that your father died yesterday? Are you going to the funeral?" the first reporter shouted. 

"Your brother and sister said you refused to see him in the hospital," another one said. One reporter showed me a newspaper with a story that made me out to be a horrible daughter who refused her dying father's last wish to see her. I saw red.

"You seem to be laboring under some misunderstood facts," I said coldly. "First of all, that man wasn't my father, he was just the guy who knocked up my mother. He deserted her as soon as she told him she was pregnant. There were never any attempts to contact me. My mom and grandparents never spoke of him. There was never so much as a birthday card or a single cent of child support. And there were times when my mom could have used it. It wasn't easy for her to be a single parent; we lived in a conservative place. According to my half-brother, he recognized me when I got married, but he still never reached out. I never knew I had half-siblings until a while ago when my half-brother showed up on my doorstep. He told me that his father was dying from lung cancer and he wanted to do something for him. I doubt that he asked his father whether he wanted to meet me, but given past inaction, I have to think it wouldn't have been the joyous surprise that Brad thought it would be. But I didn't want to meet him either. And I never met his sister."

"Your half-brother said you said you hoped he was suffering."

"I did," I acknowledged. "I have no reason to think well of him and I was stunned that this man I never met showed up out of the blue like that, asking for favors. I was surprised and shocked, and it wasn't a nice thing to say. The whole 'cowardly father who ran away from his responsibilities' is a bit of a sore spot with me. If you were in my shoes, I bet you wouldn't be so ready to think the best of him either."

"Mr McDonald said that you sicced the Winter Soldier on him."

I started to laugh. "First of all, Bucky is a friend of mine who was perturbed by the fact that Brad was trying to pressure me into doing something I didn't want to do. He's not some animal, for heaven's sake, and he didn't threaten him. And you've got to question Brad's motives for coming forward with this story. He told me that he knew about me from the time he was a teenager and that he found out my name a couple of years ago. So why track me down now? My guess is that the medical care was expensive and now there are big bills that he hoped that he could guilt me into paying." I shook my head. "Now please get off my lawn. This is private property."

They had to leave, but they didn't look too unhappy about it. I'd just given them some juicy details for their non-story.

Nevertheless, I was in a bad mood when I made it to work.

It was made worse by the arrival of people to look at the space and bring in things for the next day's party, including the crates of champagne. Loki handled them pretty well, but by the time I left the office, my muscles were screaming from the tension and I had an upset stomach and headache. I knocked off early to go swimming and weight lifting, and then I went to get a massage. I didn't do it frequently, and now I wondered why. I felt a lot better once my muscles were pummeled into submission. I didn't go out patrolling because I didn't want to collect any new, hard-to-explain bruises.

The next day, Loki and I were going in late, so I slept in a little and prepared to enjoy a more leisurely breakfast than usual. I was dismayed to see in the paper that there was more coverage of me missing the sperm donor's funeral, with quotes from my porch speech as well as some fact-checking about the probable costs of the sperm donor's medical treatments, doctors, and medications. I felt more and more that the half-brother had looked me up to squeeze me for cash. Tough. There had also been a murder in "my" neighborhood and the reporter wondered why I hadn't prevented it. The tension returned with interest.

Later that afternoon, Loki sent me out to an appointment he'd set up for hair and makeup, which was thoughtful of him but it was just something else to endure. When I changed into the dress, I had to change into thong panties so there wouldn't be VPL, which I hated because thongs always make me feel like I have a wedgie. Loki gave me a once-over, nodded, and fastened the choker around my neck. It felt too snug although it didn't look nearly as tight as it felt. He looked very distinguished in his tuxedo. Too soon, people started to arrive. The press arrived later, by which time it was hot from too many people and there were a lot of people per capita that I didn't really want to see. Constance came with Tony, the Avengers arrived. Steve arrived with a date for each arm, which I hadn't expected and was not all that pleased to see. I kept my face pleasant and thanked everyone for coming. There were some bright spots; Peter and May arrived, and my former assistant Eliza. Pepper showed up with her husband, whom I'd never met. One of my favorite reporters was there with good questions. The other reporters got their quotes and spent the rest of their time sucking down champagne and sucking up to the Avengers and the society names. They looked at the jewelry only to get a picture for their publication that might or might not run. It was stressful; most people didn't look at the jewelry much, but at least I didn't embarrass myself. It was tough, though. When Steve came to congratulate me, one of the society women attached to him said condescendingly that my work was "cute" and that she was sure there was a market for it. She, herself, preferred cleaner lines, more minimalism in the approach. Bigger diamonds. Steve looked at me nervously, but I merely thanked her for coming. It was a relief when people started to leave. Tony came up, briskly congratulated me, accepted my thanks for the party, patted my shoulder, and told me to ignore the stuff in the paper. Constance kept her distance. 

I told Loki he could leave early as thanks for all his help, and he changed into a suitable outfit for clubbing with his new friends from classes. The caterers finished vacuuming hors d'oeuvres out of the rugs and left with a tip for their excellent work. I locked the door behind them and sat, trying to relax, before changing out of the silk dress.

I went on patrol again. My neighborhood had plenty of crime reporters wanting to talk to me. All I could say is that I tried to make things better for people, but that I couldn't save everybody; I couldn't be everywhere, no one could. I didn't see anybody doing anything illegal, probably because of all the reporters, and I just hoped I didn't miss something.

Finally I gave up and went home. It was a nice night for a walk, cold and refreshing. My tension ebbed and I tried to let all the problems drop away. Some of it I couldn't control, like my asshole half-brother, but there was no way I'd apologize for not going to see his father or to the funeral. I owed them nothing. The party was over and it seemed to go well enough. I was going to have to have words with Tony, though. His intent was kind, but I really resented how he'd just barged in and taken over an aspect of my business. I knew realistically that one person couldn't stop all the crime in an area, but I still felt badly that somebody had been killed on my patch. The things I had no control over included how my work would be received and whether my business was viable. While it was true I could keep my doors open regardless of the sales, if I was being honest, I didn't want to be a dilettante. I really wanted to succeed. I turned onto my street, trudging wearily, head down, hands in pockets. I needed to start bringing gloves.

"Hey, doll." I looked around, startled. Bucky was sitting on the steps to his porch. They hadn't gotten the gate done, so I just walked up the path and sat next to him. He had a steaming mug.

"Coffee?" I asked hopefully, taking it from him and taking a sip. I almost spit it out. He laughed at my wrinkled nose.

"Green tea," he said, looking at the mug and frowning. "It's supposed to be relaxing and healthy. Tastes like lawn." I smiled a little in agreement. He put his arm around me and I put my head on his shoulder.

"Sorry I wasn't there tonight," he said. "I just..."

"You didn't miss anything," I said.

"I got a picture of you on my phone," he said, showing me. "Elegant dress, beautiful woman. The collar is pretty. ...I just don't like collars much. Steve said that everybody was impressed." Steve was kind. That could mean pretty much anything. "He got caught up by two social climbers," Bucky went on. "He had a hell of a time getting away. Gotta say, a bad reputation is good for something; I never have to deal with that. Even women who want a bad boy never bother me." That was only because they never looked beneath the surface to the man underneath.

"Oh, Bucky, I forgot to tell you--" and I told him what the reporter had said about my half-brother. "I told them that you hadn't threatened anybody, but who knows what the papers will say?" I sighed.

"So what's really got you down?" he asked, waving off my warning. "You can tell me anything. Come on, let me help." He nudged me. So I spilled out all the dreariness.

"It sounds ridiculous and petty," I said, trying to laugh.

"They're real problems to you and they're not nothing," Bucky corrected me. "I can't tell you anything you haven't figured out for yourself, but I also think you're too hard on yourself. You keep thinking that you don't have a right to have hurt feelings or resentment, but you do. You might literally be bulletproof, but you can be hurt, and you shouldn't try to fool yourself that malicious people don't hurt. Some things you can do something about and some things you can't, but don't lie to yourself, because damage accumulates."

"You're a smart man, Bucky," I said and rubbed my cheek on his shoulder. "I'll have to call Tony and tell him to keep his hands off my business."

"See?" he kissed the top of my head. "You'll feel better." We sat in silence awhile. "So why don't you tell me what's really bugging you?" he asked gruffly.

I wasn't going to. "Steve," I heard myself saying, slightly horrified at myself. "He showed up with two women! And I know, we're not married, I don't have a right to be hurt, but two women, Bucky!" He snorted back a laugh. "Bottle blonde, petty, plastic, patronizing..." I muttered.

Bucky gave up the fight, a big gorgeous laugh erupting. "Doll, those two remoras latched onto him and he couldn't shake them without making a scene, which he didn't want to do at your opening. He wasn't impressed by them and he's not dating either one." He gave me a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. "Go to bed, sleep tight. You can even have my tea to help."

I screwed up my face. "Nice try. You're going to have to drink your grass clippings by yourself." I got up and so did he.

"Nah," he said, and dumped it onto the lawn. I snorted and waved goodbye.

The next morning, we bought the papers on the way to work and spread them out before we opened. There was a brief mention of the party in a couple of the papers, but the others had more substantive reviews. One reported admitted to not knowing enough about jewelry to write a critical review, but that it had all looked nice. There were a few photos of the party, and the other reviews gushed about the guest list and said that the pieces were innovative and stylish.

Cute, my ass. I huffed to myself with a small amount of triumph. Loki visited the websites for the publications who had sent reporters, and there were more photographs, including some of me and the jewelry. "Oh, that's a nice one," Loki said; my head was turned in profile, but the picture was from the front and showed the collar clearly. I looked pretty good. "I must see if I can get copies of some of these photographs..."

Loki turned away and I picked up my phone. I called Tony, who picked up on the first ring, thanked him for the party, and told him plainly never to do anything like that again without checking with me first. "This business is important to me," I said quietly but sternly. "I need to do things my way. And I will make your life difficult if you don't respect that, respect me."

I expected justifications and protestations, but he just sighed. "I wanted to do something for you," he said. "And it turned out well, but I can understand why you're upset."

"Wow," I said after a stunned moment.

He laughed. "I may have gone over the top," he conceded. The humor left his voice. "I know this is important to you. I just wanted to help."

Shit. I have a hard time with Tony Stark when he's being sincere. "Just don't do it again," I sighed.

"OK," he said, the usual buoyancy returning to his voice. "So do you want those half-sibs investigated? Because I can courier you a report--"

"Thank you, no," I said, trying to squelch this. I would bet he already had the report from the way he'd phrased things. "Not unless they don't shut up and go away," I said on a sigh. He chortled and hung up.

Loki unlocked the doors and I turned my attention to a bracelet I'd been working on for about a week, off and on. Fiddly little details by the carload. I was quite surprised to see five or six people spill in immediately. I recognized one man from the night before, but the ladies were all new to me. I got up and approached the group at the cases, introducing myself and thanking them for being the first customers.

"I love how the cases are decorated," one woman said enthusiastically. "So creative and imaginative."

"That's all the effort of my assistant, Laurence," I said, smiling. He was busy showing some items to two of the other ladies, but he shot us a quick grin for the compliment.

The man bought himself a pair of platinum cufflinks set with Ethiopian opals and traces of enamel. He didn't quite hit on me, but he did stroke my hand. I noticed his wedding ring and simply thanked him for his purchase and invited him to come again. Anybody who wanted to buy platinum was ok by me. Three of the four women bought pieces. I enjoyed listening to Loki charm them. His sales technique included inviting the customers to imagine wearing earrings or pendants to romantic dinners with their partners or sightseeing in Paris or Milan. It was very effective. I went back to work knowing that the front of the store was in good hands. We had customers trickle in all day. Loki escorted the last one to the door at closing and locked it behind her. He had to hurry to make it to his class on time. I shooed him out and took a look at the receipts. It had been a good day; all the pieces that we sold were low to medium price, aside from the cufflinks. I needed to make more items to sell at those price points. Hopefully we'd be selling enough to make increasing the inventory worth it. Think positively, I scolded myself, and updated the inventory on the computer.

I removed the jewelry from the cases as my insurance mandated and put it all in the safe. I went back to the bench and finished up a tie bar with a demantoid garnet accent and got two pairs of earrings ready for enameling in the morning. I put everything away and closed the safe.


	33. Lawlessness

The next day, I bought the tie pin with the demantoid garnets from myself and presented it to Loki. It was in the shape of a curved dagger, with a little engraving, the use of yellow gold accents on the white gold, and the little garnets set into the pommel of the dagger. He seemed genuinely pleased and immediately put it on his tie. He'd decided that black suits with subdued ties were his work outfits, and the tie bar provided a spot of interest. He got complements on it from the customers, who were showing up in greater numbers today. Among them was that really obnoxious woman who had called my designs "cute."

Today she was with a couple of other younger women whom I recognized from the society pages, although I couldn't put names to them. One of them was shopping for a birthday present for her mother, Agnes Vorhees, a powerful businesswoman who was married to old New York money. As Loki assisted her, her friend looked at the displays, complained about the lack of a bigger inventory, said that the designs were too busy, that things looked tacky or gaudy. Other shoppers looked at her with irritation and moved away. One customer left. I came over to the display case as she snapped her fingers at Loki and told him she wanted to see a piece. Loki narrowed his eyes at her and I nudged him to continue helping the young woman with her birthday gift. I took out the piece that the woman had indicated. It was inspired by Art Deco, and used frosted, carved glass, rich red tigers eye with its silky chatoyancy, and onyx to form a striking pendant. She threw a fit when I told her that the components included glass, saying that it was cheap and tacky. I replaced the pendant in the case, locked it, and told her that she was banned from my property. One of the other customers snickered, which is when she lost it. Her insults started with "dried-up snatch" and went downhill from there, devolving into some truly shocking gutter insults. Her friends turned their backs, and the one looking for her mother's gift quickly made her purchase. 

"Leave now or I will have you arrested," I said flatly, and with a final epithet, she flounced for the door. Her friends did not go with her, and the one who was waiting for Loki to box and wrap the necklace she'd chosen (three strands of lustrous white Akoya pearls shading to dark gray at a platinum floral vine element set with little diamonds and pale colored sapphires) apologized profusely. I smiled at her.

"You've been lovely, and I hope to see you here again," I said. "I hope your mother enjoys her gift. That's one of my favorite pieces."

"She's going to love it," the woman predicted confidently. "The pearls are matched beautifully and the shading is perfect. The length is just right and she's really going to love the flower thing that detaches and can be worn as a pin." She held out her hand. "I'm Amelia Vorhees, but everybody calls me Gee." She shrugged. "It's one of those things," she said, and I grinned. She collected her remaining friend and left.

Another customer who had witnessed the unpleasant scene timidly asked for some help, and Loki turned on his charm. I raised my voice and apologized to the other customers for the unpleasantness. One man who wanted to see some enameled earrings shook his head. "She's the daughter of a Senator," he warned, and I shrugged.

"She shouldn't be embarrassing her parents like that, then. She made someone uncomfortable enough to leave, which impacts my business."

"She might sue you," he said, holding up the earring and smiling at it.

"She is free to try," I said, unruffled. "I didn't refuse her business because of her race, color, religion, age, national origin, or sexual preference. I kicked her out because she made other customers uncomfortable, negatively affected my business, and had appalling language."

"You banned her for being a bitch," he said, nodding. "I'll take these." I ran his card and boxed the earrings for him, handing the earrings to him with the certificate of authenticity and receipt in an envelope. 

The next day an article ran in the Post about the incident. I came off pretty well, and the article drew additional interest to the store. I started staying late to work on new pieces because we were too busy for me to create when the store was open. It wasn't a complaint.

From the store, I started going out on patrol for a few hours, coming back to the store and changing, and walking home. I didn't get to see Bucky and Steve as much, and my social life was pretty much limited to customers, crooks, victims, and encounters with the other street-level heroes.

One night I took Peter to the Night Nurse for some stitches. He'd been distracted by Black Cat and had run face-first into the side of the building. We found Wolverine waiting while the Night Nurse talked to an enormous man, feline-looking and covered with blue fur. He spoke in a kind, light baritone. The Nurse looked over at our entrance and sighed. She finished her conversation and beckoned Peter over to evaluate the source of the blood on his mask. The exotic man joined Wolverine, who stood up and grunted at me.

"Beast, this is Poppy."

The blue man put out his hand. "Dr Henry McCoy, actually." He didn't seem upset with Wolverine, so that must be his code name.

I shook his hand. "Of what are you a doctor?" I asked.

"Biophysics and genetics," he said. I nodded.

"He's also our doctor," Wolverine said laconically.

"I don't have an MD," Dr McCoy said, and Wolverine shrugged.

"We all do what we can."

My attention was caught by his fur. It was very soft and had bands of slightly different shades of blue. I stroked his forearm gently, and flushed when he looked at me in astonishment.

"I'm sorry, I'm being so rude," I said, releasing his hand and stepping back. "Your hair or fur is just so beautiful. And soft." Wolverine snorted in amusement.

Peter piped up, "She has really good vision. Ow!"

"You're numb," the Nurse said in exasperation. "You can't possibly feel the needle."

"I can see it, and I feel the tugging," he explained.

"Shut your eyes," she advised.

To my relief, Dr McCoy and Wolverine left before I could embarrass myself further. I couldn't believe I'd petted a biochemist. The Nurse mopped up Peter and we went back to the streets, separating when I was sure he felt ok. I went home, walking fast. It was cold, and I wanted some cocoa before going to bed. Bucky's porch light was on, and he popped out when I passed by.

"Emma, did you hear the news?" he asked, and I shook my head.

"I haven't had time to check the net since this morning."

"Come inside," he said, holding the door. Steve was watching the TV, sitting on the edge of the leather sofa, elbows on knees.

"There's been an earthquake in Washington state," Steve said grimly. "Huge. Lots of destruction." I pressed my hand to my mouth.

"Are Laura and the kids ok? Anybody hurt at the facilities?"

"Barton went out the instant the news came over the wire," Bucky said quietly. "They didn't make it." I bit my lip to get the tears under control.

"I don't understand why there was such a large earthquake there," Steve said, almost to himself. "I thought the faults were all in California." Bucky guided me over to the sofa, where we three huddled together.

"The edges of the Pacific are largely unstable, it's called the Ring of Fire," I said, trying to remember what I'd learned in geology a long time ago. It was hard, I'd taken the class long before I got my eiditic memory. "There's a mid-ocean ridge that spreads, creating new crust. The plate on the seafloor by Washington is the Juan de Fuca plate. It subducts, or goes under, the continental plate. That's why there are volcanoes in the Cascades. Volcanism and earthquake zones are frequently found together. Earthquakes can occur in the subduction zone, deep in the Juan de Fuca plate, or more shallowly, in the crust. There's a specific fault by Seattle, I think." Too much information that nobody wanted. We sat and watched the news. The Space Needle had toppled, and there were scenes of destruction everywhere.

Steve checked his phone. "The earthquake broke the natural gas line and the farmhouse exploded," he said hoarsely, and I started to cry again. We found out later that although there was some serious damage, nobody had been killed at the visitors center or at the complex, although there had been some injuries reported. Bucky and Steve got the call; the Avengers were going out to assist with rescue and cleanup efforts. They headed out and I headed home.

The next few days were kind of a blur. The Avengers didn't come back for a couple of weeks, until after the situation in the region had been stabilized and funerals held for Clint's family. I couldn't fly out; there were no flights in or out of any of the Seattle-area airports. I had a florist from Spokane drive across the state with flowers for the closed-casket funerals. And how worthless that felt, but there was nothing constructive to be done.

I had lunch with Pepper, who told me that Tony was relocating everything back to New York; Hawkeye was going on a leave of absence. We spearheaded an auction to raise funds for the victims of the earthquake and I donated two of my most expensive pieces of jewelry: the collar I'd worn to Tony's party and a diamond, Akoya, and Tahitian pearl necklace. The auction raised over five million dollars, and complemented fundraising efforts in LA, Chicago, and Miami as well as the outpouring of funds from citizens to charities.

Crime dipped in the city briefly, then seemed to explode. It seemed that the worst elements of human nature emerged in the shadow of the tragedy. Violent crime was way up and I spent more time on my streets every night. The police were putting in overtime too, and everybody was stretched thin. The mayor and police chief had to impose a curfew and pleaded for the restoration of order. I was attacked by a group of three men and suffered a serious beating, even with my skin and new durability. I managed to dissuade them by almost strangling one of them with my whip. I sat on the ground propped up by a wall while I tried to get my breath back.

"Hey, pretty lady," a voice said from overhead. Above me, a good looking man floated, wearing a skin-tight uniform with a "4" in a circle over his left pec. Unlike most guys wearing that kind of outfit, he did not try to minimize his pride and joy. Or else he had a heck of a codpiece. I knew who he was, of course; we'd met before in pursuit of evildoers. Despite an odd resemblance to Steve, Johnny Storm was no relation biologically and didn't have much in common temperamentally. Steve was mature and driven to be helpful and keep the bad guys shut down with a fist to the face. Johnny was not mature, driven by the urge to score as frequently as possible and keep the bad guys shut down with a quip and some flames. 

"Hey, Johnny," I said, starting to shiver. The temperature hadn't gotten above 40 all day and now that I wasn't moving, I was losing heat fast. He touched down beside me.

"Don't tell me your petals are getting frost bitten," he said, and turned up his fire, crouching beside me and radiating warmth. Both the glow and the heat were comforting. He extinguished his hand and pulled the toggle of my zipper up, not even trying to touch my breasts. "You girls are smoking in your little bitty costumes, but you might want to reconsider your look for winter. So what happened here?"

"A few guys beat me up," I shrugged.

"The criminal element seems to be getting bolder and nastier these days," he remarked, for once without a smirk or innuendo. "Do you need to get some help?" I nodded.

"There's a clinic I can go to in Stark Tower."

"There's one guy with an ego bigger than mine," he said. "Now here's what I'm gong to do. I'm going to turn on my flame, warm up, then I'm going to hug you to warm you up, then I'll fly you to the tower. It's a cold night and I fly fast." He kept his flame on for a few seconds, then extinguished himself and pulled me to my feet gently before hugging me. He was nice and toasty and I warmed my front before turning around to get my back warm. He picked me up gingerly and jumped into the air. The clinic kept me overnight and I couldn't patrol for a couple of nights. I wasn't the only one.

After a few of us went down, the press started tracking known or suspected superhero injuries. It was depressing, but at least the citizens knew we were still trying to help. When the Avengers got back, they joined the crime-fighting efforts too. Somehow I wasn't surprised when Bucky showed up here and there. By now it wasn't just humans and supercharged villains; bad guys with non-human mutations were coming out too, visible, bold, and wreaking havoc. Doc Ock. Abomination. Clay Face. Finally, the National Guard was called in, and this helped to control the situation with street level crime. The more powerful villains still needed superheroes to combat them. Business was pretty much limited to daylight hours, with citizens scurrying home so they could reach the safety of their homes before dark. As of yet, home invasions weren't really happening. It was having a huge effect on the city. The universities couldn't offer night classes, and restaurants, bars, clubs, and other businesses that operated at night were all risking failure since nobody could guarantee safety.

There were some lighter moments here and there, though. One early evening, I saw Spiderman making time with a girl in an alley,(really, Peter? an alley??) and there was a lot more than kissing going on. Pete had one hand squeezing her butt and the other inside her shirt. Couldn't see where her hands were, didn't want to check. His mask was pulled up to his nose. Initially I walked right past this as I was passing the alley, but then I walked backward to check that I had indeed seen what I thought I'd seen.

"Shit," Peter said as he tore his mouth away from the girl. "Uh...Poppy--"

"Poppy?" the girl repeated, stepping back and looking between the two of us. She was cute, and I remembered where I'd seen her before. Pete had taken her to Homecoming. MJ, her name was. She looked jealous. Oops.

"Look, curfew's starting in less than an hour, miss. You need to get home, because if I get the hell pounded out of me, you might not survive what roams the streets," I said directly to her. Then I looked at Peter and smirked, although I don't know if he could see it under my mask. "You need to keep your head about you too, pal." I trotted up the alley and opened a utility pouch, rooting around a little through my personal things before finding what I was after and pressing the packet into Peter's palm. "Safety first," I said sternly and turned, walking away.

"What did she give you? Let me see?" MJ said, then exploded into giggles. "How do you know her? She's like a very cool aunt--" Peter was probably going to kill me, but it's always good to have protection. Though where he was going to keep it was unclear. He didn't have pockets or a handy utility belt. Not my problem.

A couple nights later, I ran across Bucky under attack by Steel Claw, a brand new villain with some enhancements and two steel pincers instead of hands, and three of his minions. Bucky seemed to have things under control, but I intervened when one of them snuck up behind him with a piece of pipe in his hands. I snapped my whip around his arm and pulled, alerting Bucky. He took the pipe away and clobbered the goon. He saw me in the shadows, jerked his chin in acknowledgement, and sent Steel Claw and his minions running.

He gave me a hug and I cuddled up for a bit. I hadn't seen him or Steve for several days. "How are you doing?" I asked.

"Pissants like that irritate me, doll, but I'm fine. You feel chilly," he said. "You should at least wear a jacket," he admonished me, and I cracked a smile.

"When the snow starts," I said, and he groaned.

"Sorry to interrupt," Steve said from behind me. Bucky let go of me like I was Johnny Storm. I resisted the urge to rub my arms. Maybe he was right about the jacket. "Buck, did you tell Ms Poppy yet?"

"Nope," Bucky said.

"Ms Poppy, we believe that there's somebody or a group of people behind the surge of crime in the city. We're asking everybody, including the National Guard and the police, to interrogate the criminals they apprehend to see if they have knowledge that may help us find out who is driving this. I've heard that you have an especially effective way of getting information from suspects," he said, flushing a little. He peeked at my cleavage briefly. Bucky tried to cover a laugh.

"I do," I acknowledged. "I'd be happy to see what information I can for you."

Steve smiled briefly, then did a double take at the metal flowers on my suit. "Those look very familiar," he said slowly. Shit.

"I had a new jeweler make them for me," I said, shrugging one shoulder in a way I rarely did because it always brought the zipper down an inch or two. Steve's eyes went right to my breasts, where the harsh light from the streetlight leeched the color from my skin and made the contrast with my suit and bra more dramatic.

"Uh," he said intelligently. He shook his head. "So. You can find me any time if you find out anything. Or Bucky." He turned to go and nearly walked into a dumpster. I controlled the laugh that wanted to escape, then turned back to Bucky.

"You have to go, so I'll make it fast. How is everything? Are you still seeing Con? Drinking your tea? Is there anything I can do?" I asked, quickly and quietly.

"I'm still seeing Con, four times a week," he said, his mouth a grim line. "I'm not drinking that tea crap. I switched to decaf." I squeezed his hand in solidarity. "Otherwise I'm fine. The nights are cold. I hate the cold." He shivered.

"Maybe you need a coat too," I said gently. I lifted an eyebrow at him playfully. "I'll wear one if you do," I said, inspired.

"Maybe I will, then," he said, smiling faintly at me. I went on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, but he moved at the same time and my lips met his instead. We stared at each other a moment after the brief kiss.

"Hey, Buck," Steve yelled, a little crossly.

"Coming," he said, stepped past me. We both went back to work.


	34. Spoils of victory

One thing that I had completely forgotten about being a teenager was that there is sometimes...no, often...a big gap between how you fantasize about kissing your crush and how it actually plays out. And by that, I don't mean that the kiss was bad. Nopety nope. His lips had been warm and soft and tempting. But Jesus, Harrington, grow up. You have had more than twenty years to get a grip on your damn hormones. Sure, he's sexy and smells good and I can totally be myself around him, but he has about a metric crap-ton of his own problems, all of it heavier than Everest, and you are supposed to be a supportive friend. Plus there's the little problem of how his best friend, and by best, I mean a friendship that is more devoted than many marriages I've seen, is my ex-husband. So seriously. Be a friend. If I want to get laid, I know some superheroes who would be pretty ok with that plan. And actually, a few villains who aren't as bad as they're made out to be, if I wanted to walk on the wild side.

So I made a deal with myself. If both of us were unattached when Bucky was done with therapy, I would reconsider changing my hands-off approach to very hands-on. If it's just a crush, it also gives it plenty of time to fade naturally.

I thought I deflected Steve pretty well, but I can't kid myself. Sooner or later, and by that I probably meant sooner, he was going to figure things out and he was going to be pissed that I'd been pursuing street criminals. He tends to think that I need protecting. He knows I'm tough, but reality and what he wants to believe are also two things that don't always align very well. He also knows that he has no right to dictate my activities, but I know there will still be hurt feelings when he thinks it through. So. Let's mitigate the damage, because since Bucky is my neighbor, I'm going to be seeing him a lot.

The next day, I went out for lunch and walked past a motorcycle jacket in the window of a vintage store. I backed up for a second look. It was really cool. It had shoulders and sleeves that were shaped to somehow resemble a cape but without the flappy parts, two zippers on the ribs, a shaped belt around the hips that hit just higher than my utility belt, and a pieced bit on the upper chest that was really nice. I got some plum satin and batting at a nearby fabric store to replace the worn lining. I also got materials to make a detachable hood.

Loki and I had a chat about how to adjust the store hours. We were still getting customers from about ten to two, but nothing before then and not many after. As the days shortened, nobody wanted to be out too close to dark. It was like the Purge movies, but every night. Everybody still had errands to do, but they all had to be done while the sun was shining, when it was safer.  
We decided to close on Sundays and Mondays altogether and I would come in on Tuesdays to work, but we wouldn't be open for customers. And on the other days, we would be open from ten to three. That way Loki wouldn't have to rush to get to class.

On the way home, I stopped by Macys and picked up some black tights and a few other things. When I turned on the street, I turned into Bucky's place and knocked on the door. Steve answered it, looking tired and adorably mussed.

"Emma," he said, giving me a quick hug, opening the door for me. "Want some coffee? I'm making some." I smiled at him and he ambled off back to the the kitchen as Bucky came down the stairs.

He also gave me a hug, after which I thrust the big Macys bag at him. He looked at me in bemusement, then started to laugh as he hauled out the heavy-duty down duvet and a nice gray duvet cover. When Steve saw it, he joined in the laughter. Bucky hooked an arm around my neck and kissed my head. 

"I just realize in therapy today that I'm punishing myself by keeping myself uncomfortable," he said, and I smiled.

"So are you getting rid of that awful mattress?" I asked. Honestly, it was almost exactly like sleeping on the box springs instead of a mattress. He smiled.

"One step at a time," he said, and the three of us figured out how best to get the duvet stuffed reasonably in the cover.

"Maybe you should wash it first," I said, fingering the cover. "It smells like the dye or something." Bucky smirked a little and we took the down insert out.

"That's nice of you," Steve said softly as Bucky took off for the laundry room.

"I thought about an electric blanket, but they generate electrical fields and I wasn't sure how that would work out with the chips in his arm. But you super soldiers produce more heat than the rest of us, he should be ok with something that just retains warmth. How are you fixed?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"I've got plenty of blankets," he said, holding up his hands. I thought back, and felt like shuddering. He was a child of the Depression and poverty and considered the blankets still good if they weren't actually full of holes and worn spots. I'd stop by the store again tomorrow.

After a bit of chat, I excused myself. We all had things to do before we went to work. A few doors down, a realtor was hastily pounding a "For Sale" sign into the ground. I frowned; there were more for signs than I could ever remember seeing, and more going up every day.

I wasn't going to be able to put in the new jacket lining today, but I could make the quilted fabric for the lining; I'd gotten a nice warm flannel for the back of the quilt, the batting, and the pretty plum satin. I layered the three fabrics together and did a kind of swirly, freeform quilting. I could cut it out tomorrow. I had dinner, and as I came downstairs dressed in my Poppy costume with the new tights (fishnets over the top, for looks), Loki came in. He told me about some hotspots that he knew about, but they weren't on my turf, so I didn't have to worry. I showed him my new jacket, of which he approved. He also had some admissions materials for colleges and he wanted to review them with me over the weekend. He gave me a hug and told me to go kick ass and keep people safe. He's a heck of a guy. 

Interestingly, the normal human criminal element who were my bread and butter targets were declining in numbers. One of the police officers told me that the jails were all overflowing. They were preferring to stay in jail rather than get back on the streets. More information was needed, and I started asking questions. The first opportunity I had, I tied a looter, a petty criminal I recognized, to a fire escape, dosed him with my perfume, then played with the zipper toggle between my breasts until he relaxed. He reported that there was a big surge in supervillains; apparently they were coming in from all over the world. Then he froze up. I wasn't quite sure what to do; that had never happened before. So I distracted him by stroking my throat and breasts until his body lost that tension again and kept it up while I repeated my questions.

"I saw blue people," he blurted out. "They're taller and bigger than us. They all seem to wear some kind of masks." I brought the zipper down farther and played with the edges of my bra. He was a pitiable mess of arousal and fear. He started to pant, but I doubted it was because of my boobs, lingerie, and truth serum. "I thought they were fighting humans, but one of them got cut, the one I thought was a person, and the blood was green. And then he sort of twisted, like a special effect in a movie, and it was green. They look kind of like goblins. Or lizards." He started to shake and tried to get loose.

"What would you do if I let you go?" I asked, considering him. He was terrified.

"Get the fuck out of here and never come back," he said.

"Ok," I said, and used my knife to cut him down. "If I see you again, though, I won't be alerting the cops to come and get you. I'll just leave you. For them."

"You won't be seeing me again," he promised fervently, then dashed around me and out the alley. I zipped up again, made a few lists of the salient points for distribution to others, and continued my patrol.

From there it was one thing after another. I took a breather shortly after two, where I found Batman on my perch. Again.

"This is my observation point," I said crossly. "You have the whole city. Why can't you find another place to hang out?"

"Maybe I wanted to see you again," he said, uncrossing his arms and pushing down the zipper on my costume a couple inches with his finger. His leather-clad fingertips gently brushed the curve of my breast.

I stepped back. "Catwoman was nice the time we met, but I don't think she'd go so easy on me again," I stated.

"We're not exclusive," he said.

"Oh, my god! Are you boinking another villain?" an incredulous young voice asked. "How do you get any work done if you're always groping chicks, Batman?" Batman squeezed his eyes shut and stepped back.

"Robin--" he said testily to the boy in a bright red tunic and black pants.

"I still think you should have worn a condom," said yet another new voice in disgust. The new arrival wore a black bodysuit that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, stretched artfully over a muscular body. He wore a black domino and his hair was black. "'Wrap it before you tap it' would have prevented so many problems."

"How would a condom now help alter an event ten years ago?" Batman asked peevishly.

"You're his dad?" I blurted.

"In my defense, I didn't know about him until he showed up like this," Batman said wearily.

"I don't know," the younger man said. "I just felt it should have been said. You impregnate a villain, we all suffer. I'm Nightwing," he said to me.

"Poppy," I said primly.

"She's a hero, dad, why are you sniffing around?" twitted Robin. "Catwoman has bigger tits. And she's pretty much always willing to give you a ride."

"Damian!" barked his father. I started to think Nightwing had a point.

"I'll tell you when you're older, Junior," Nightwing said disdainfully to Robin.

"Ok," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I'm not prepared for the level of dysfunction in the Bat family this evening." I told them what my criminal had told me. Robin groaned dramatically. "Spread the word," I said, and Nightwing courteously held the door to the stairs for me.

Catwoman flounced through it, dangling a bag from her fingertips. "Oh, my...a family reunion of sorts. Perhaps I should come back when the kiddies are in bed, Bats," she said, skimming her fingers down his chest.

"What's in the bag, Se--Catwoman?" Batman sounded like he was on the verge of shouting.

"Oh, not much, just some pretties," she said, putting her hands behind her back. For once, Batman didn't ogle her chest, even when she took a deep breath and her zipper quivered. He reached around her and plucked the bag from her hand.

Nightwing opened it and whistled when he looked inside. Catwoman scowled as he brought out a pearl necklace, a diamond brooch, pendants on fine chains. I shoved the jewelry back into the bag, noting also the paper folds that contained gemstones.

"Son of a bitch," I said. "I know the jeweler who made these. She made these for me," and I tapped the metalwork on my bodysuit. "You stole from my friend!" I was hopping mad at her.

Catwoman had the decency to try to pretend to be contrite. "Sweetie, it's what I do. And your friend should be flattered. I only acquire the best." I glared at her, shut the bag tightly, and smacked her pert nose with the roll of papers before peeling one off to give to Batman on the way down the stairs. Just before the door banged closed, I heard her sigh, "Oh, dear. She seemed nice."

Just before I hit the street, I had to stop to think. I didn't want to go to the store now at night; Catwoman wasn't the only thief on the prowl. I put the jewelry in my jacket pockets and the gemstones in a pouch on my belt. God damn it, how did she get into the safe? It was supposed to be the best on the market. And the stones had been in their own separate lockbox with biometric security. I tossed the bag in the trash, got my head on straight again, and went back out.

Around four, I was wanting to call it a night. My endurance wasn't what it had been twenty years ago when I could dance all night and go out for breakfast after. But unfortunately, I was facing a guy with cranial distortion and scales like an iguana. He was fast and he hit hard. I was going to have a lot of bruising. He hit me hard with a leg strike, and I went reeling into a wall clutching the fire on my side.

"Oh, pretty Poppy," he mocked me, striding over, full of energy and malice. "There's a betting pool for who can take you down. Another for who can make you bleed more than just a bloody nose."

"You guys bet on us? Don't you have anything better to do?" I asked dryly, and straightened up.

"Well, there's good money in it, you see." He licked where his lips would have been if he'd had them. "Nine thousand to take you out, five thousand for serious blood. Pics or it didn't happen, of course. And one of the legally-challenged fraternity has made an offer of a thousand dollars for exclusive pictures of various superheroine body parts. On you, it's your tits, see what's real and what's padding. So what with I can get for you in addition to my haul, I can really clean up with you, so to speak. Nothing personal, it's just for fun and money."

"I don't think so," I said in disgust. When he came after me, I had my knife ready and buried it in his gut. It didn't take much effort at all, bless my blades. If he got help, it shouldn't be lethal. I slid it free and wiped it on his shirt as he went down. His face looked shocked. Then I saw he had a messenger bag under his pea coat and cut it free.

I didn't say anything to him, just moved as quickly as I could down the street, taking a survey of my damage. Lots of bruises, sure, I hurt my wrist when I went into the wall, and my ribs felt really sore but I didn't think they were broken. I saw a reporter who helped to track the superheroes so that the police knew how many were available to help and said I'd be out for a day or two. He saved the information on his phone and the National Guard guys he was with asked how bad it was. I downplayed it a bit, but I think they knew it.

The next day was the first with our reduced hours, which made me very happy. Loki fussed solicitously, and the two of us stared at dismay at the safe, which was unharmed but wide open. The alarm hadn't even tripped. I had to fix a couple of pieces that had been damaged in my pockets, and I was relieved when we could shut up the business. We discussed how we could hide the jewelry in the short term, and Loki froze everything but the pearls into pans of ice. I hid the other things behind a piece of baseboard I carefully pried loose. It was the first time I'd ever seen so much as a trace of his frost giant heritage. Blue stole across his skin and his eyes went red. While he was like that, he charged up a chemical ice pack I'd used earlier, then his features went back to normal. He looked at me nervously. I grinned at him and said he'd be very helpful if we ever needed ice cubes in a hurry, and he smiled.

I didn't want to walk too much, so I took a cab to Macys, where I got another duvet and a nice navy cover for Steve. Then I took a cab to the end of the street and walked to Bucky's, where I knocked softly on the door. I was hoping they were still asleep so I could leave the bag for Steve with a note, but I was not so lucky. As I was writing on the bag, Bucky walked up soundlessly behind me and touched my shoulder. I managed to repress the shriek of pain when I jumped and twisted, but Bucky saw my wince and frowned.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

"Guy who looked like an iguana wanted to take me out this morning," I said. "Nothing's broken or anything, I'm just banged up. Took a kick to the ribs."

Bucky's face was thunderous. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yeah. Honestly, I'm kind of glad for a day or two off. I'll get to catch up on my sleep finally."

Steve opened the door at that point, attracted by the sound of voices. "How was therapy, Buck?" he asked, and Bucky smiled grimly.

"Nothing I really wanted to talk about," he said with a sigh. I took advantage of Steve's distraction to hand him his bag.

"You shouldn't have, Emma," he said.

"We're supposed to have a bitter winter," I said with a slight smile. "You hate being cold."

"I really like mine," Bucky said. "Didn't want to get up this morning."

"Thank you," Steve said to me, always the gentleman. They were having stew for dinner and insisted I stay. Bucky was turning out to be an excellent cook. Halfway through the meal, I remembered last night and interrupted with what my scared human crook had said. They listened soberly, and I found the rest of the notes I'd made, handing them over.

"We'll have to ask Thor what he knows," Steve said grimly.

"Loki said the green ones sounded like Scrills," I said, then thought for a moment. "No, Scrulls. He didn't know much about them." This meant that they had to call a team meeting, so I went on home. Gladly, happy to no longer be required to go to meetings. Remembering that news made me remember something else from last night. When I got home, I hauled out the messenger bag I'd taken. To the victors go the spoils, right? There was a file folder that contained a map of the old Soviet Union and a bunch of photographs of young girls, all of which were fairly old. There was also a black clothbound notebook written in Russian. I searched for and learned the Russian alphabet, then bought an online dictionary and a searchable book of 500 Russian verbs, fully conjugated. First I took a long soak for my ribs and other bruises, where I learned common words, then settled down to try to translate the notebook. It was hard going. The ink was faded in the early entries and I couldn't decipher all the words, but I worked late into the night.

I did enough work to understand the subject matter in general. And some very interesting specifics. I needed to stop by Bucky's later after work for a chat.


	35. Repercussions

The next day I went into work feeling much better. I stopped at the clinic for a session with the tissue accelerator; they clucked over me but agreed that it was just soft tissue damage. I felt a lot better when I got to the store and flipped on the lights. I turned the heat up a little, but it was cozy. When Loki came in a half an hour before we opened, he had some news.

"Thor made some visits in the Nine Realms last night," he told me quietly. "And he collected some significant information. The Skrulls have established an empire of almost a thousand worlds, and look to be adding Earth to their total. They fight the Kree, an empire that also has about a thousand worlds. Technologically, they are both far advanced from this one, and even more advanced in some ways than Asgard. The Kree are imperialistic, nationalistic, and militaristic and have been fighting the Skrulls for millennia, and the formerly mercantile Skrull empire has become militaristic as well. There isn't much to prefer, one over the other. They're both vicious. The Kree are blue-skinned, which is their primary difference in appearance from humanoids. They range from five to eight feet tall, are stronger than humans, and they are accustomed to higher gravity than the Earth possess and require more nitrogen to breathe. They wear nitrogen concentrators, which are the masks that you reported. They are evolutionarily stagnant, but they value their racial purity highly; it's a crime in their empire to mix races with a Kree. The Skrulls are green-skinned and reptilian in appearance, with red or green eyes and vertical folds along the lower jaw. They are genetically and molecularly unstable, and unlike the Kree, welcome cross-breeding. They can shapeshift to organic or inorganic forms, life forms or inanimate objects or a combination of the two, shrinking to 0.75 of their original mass or expand to 1.5 times their mass. They can change their sex at will as well. They are the finest spies known and they infiltrate societies with ease; even telepaths can't detect them. However, if you can cut them, you will see that their blood is a bluish green."

"I liked it a lot better when it was just human scum," I said tensely after a moment.

"Indeed," Loki said. "This has implications for all of the Nine Realms, and Odin is gathering a war counsel." 

"This does not sound good," I said with a sigh.

Loki wouldn't meet my eyes. "Thor is... reassigning me."

My heart fell. "He is your parole officer," I said, trying to smile. "Where are you going?"

"To some of the other realms, where I am not so notorious, explaining the threat and collecting forces."

"When do you leave?" I asked, setting the last piece in the display case and locking it.

"This afternoon." I nodded. Then it was time to open.

It was hard to smile at the customers and assist them with their choices. There were some new customers, a man looking for an engagement ring, a small gaggle of teenagers looking at silver and enamel earrings, and a woman looking for something special for herself. Loki focused on the man, and I took the teenagers. The girl looking for the earrings was MJ. I knew from Peter that they were having their winter dance at school; afternoon classes were going to be canceled for safety and the formal event changed to a semi-formal, and although it wasn't really a date thing, Pete was taking MJ. She introduced herself, saying that Peter talked about me a lot, but it wasn't a bitter sort of comment that would imply that he was nervous a lot and babbled on and on when she would like to talk about other things. Poor Peter. She liked him, but she wanted to get into Spiderman's unitard. I helped her choose a pair of gracefully shaped spirals with enamel that looked gorgeous with her hair, and threw in a 'friends and family discount." That left the woman who'd been prowling around the display cases. She was quite striking, with long black hair, an hourglass figure, and bright green eyes.

She tried on a few necklaces, the most dramatic and interesting ones on display. I thought that this was something of an apology, perhaps, if she just wasn't just scouting the store. "I just finished two new pieces," I said, and went behind the screens to open the safe. I brought out two boxes. On a dark gray suede pad, I set a diamond and moonstone fringe necklace out for her approval. Her eyes opened, she licked her lips, and her hand touched the luminous center moonstone. When she tried it on, it sat just at the base of her neck, the center moonstone fitting gently into the notch between her collarbones. She took it off, her eyes lustrous and expectant, and I opened the second box. A double strand of white Akoya pearls in a choker had a centerpiece of a carved rectangular emerald flanked by two little panthers, plated with black rhodium with diamond collars and green garnet eyes. Her intake of breath just about sucked all the oxygen out of the room. I came around the counter and twisted her hair up so she could admire the choker fully.

She actually bought it. I was kind of expecting her to just leave, but to return...nocturnally. I was impressed. I was still going to take everything home with me, though. No point in pushing my luck. The man finally made his choice of engagement ring, and both Loki and I congratulated him on his impending future happiness. Loki left to pick up something to eat.

Loki came back with my lunch and Thor. I put the sack on the table and bit my lip and blinked my eyes. I gave him a big hug. "I'll keep your room for you," I mumbled into his chest as he squeezed me. "I'll even keep your job. Be safe."

"You too," he said. He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head, then stepped back. "Don't be stupidly heroic. I expect to find my auntie in one piece when I get back." Thor nodded to me with a certain amount of sympathy, then they left.

I snuffled and swiped at my eyes. Shit. Mascara everywhere. It took awhile to clean up, but eventually all the mascara washed off and I made myself eat the lunch. With my metabolism, I couldn't afford to run a calorie deficit, especially if we were facing an alien invasion.

I didn't have any more customers, and threw the lock at closing time with relief. I put all the finished pieces into their boxes and, turning out my gym bag onto the table, I carefully stacked the boxes and fit in the wallet with the paper folds containing the gemstones. I put the bullion into a Starbucks bag and stuffed that in on top. It all just barely fit. I went around, making sure the propane was off, that everything was tidy, then went up front to turn off the computer and pick up my bank deposit. There was a knock on the door. I ignored it; the hours were plainly posted. I put the deposit in my purse and started closing programs on the computer, saving changes as I went.

The door opened. Natasha pushed the door open and my hand lifted off the panic button, although I didn't move. Behind her were Tony, Clint, and Jim.

"I'm closed," I said briefly, standing there stoically. Avengers in this quantity meant trouble. For me.

"Not here to buy," Tony said. Behind them came a man and his teenage daughter.

"I'm sorry, I'm closed," I said to them, just as Stark said, "Quit messing around, Emma. It's time for Paladin to suit up again."

The girl inhaled sharply, and everybody turned to look at her. She flapped her hands at me. "Omigod!" she shrieked. "You're the Paladin! You're my favorite Avenger! My mom bought me your first 12 inch action figure, back when you were the Armorer!" She pulled out her cell phone and took a picture. Her dad looked at me in shock and a little pity, then pulled his daughter back out the door. She was tapping at the phone like mad.

I was kind of afraid to ask if this day could get any worse. Every time something bad happened, something else mosied along later to top it, like 'hold my beer.'

"Shit," said Clint. "That was not cool, Tony. Not in public."

"I didn't know they were there," Stark snapped at him.

"Nothing's ever your fault," I said dully. "You charge around half-assed and then you're all surprised at the damage you cause when you stop and look around."

"You know what's coming," Jim said to me. He came forward and placed a scrap of metal on the case in front of me. "We got this off one of the aliens. What's in it?"

I took it automatically, rolled it between my fingers and thumb, and recited the elements in the alloy, from most abundant to least, then put it down again. I picked up my purse and slung it cross-body.

"What I don't know is where you got the information," Stark said. "That was taken off a body last night. A blue body."

"She got it from a panicked criminal," Natasha said, folding her arms and shifting her weight on her feet.

"Nat?" Clint said in confusion.

"I've been following you for a few nights," my former friend said to me. "I've seen what you've been playing at." She studied me dispassionately. "Poppy."

"Poppy?" said a new voice. Steve had stopped in the door. Sam's head popped around him.

"You're the Heroin of Heroines?" he asked enthusiastically, quoting a totally overimpressed reporter who thought he was clever.

"Son of a bitch," I said. "Why were you following me?" I hissed at Natasha.

""You followed her?" Bucky said to Natasha, who rolled her eyes as they came into the showroom.

"I saw Poppy last week, getting beat up here, talking to a wide swath of those street-level heroes there," she said, shrugging. "It was interesting, so I followed her. She meets with the odd X-Man, mercenaries. Having close encounters with the Batman. I was very surprised to see where Poppy lived. She's got some kind of drug that she uses on the criminals for information. Knowledge is power, Emma. You know that. You're all about the knowledge." Her tone was faintly mocking, and my vision started to go red. "You left the Avengers so you could be a punching bag for common criminals?"

I ripped the black cloth covered notebook out of my purse, pulled up Google, selected a search result, and typed five words into the translation program. A voice recited a list of places, verbs, and nouns in Russian. Everyone listened in bemusement until the last place had been recited, "Tsarskoye Selo." Natasha was fine until the last syllable was pronounced, then she sort of sagged, her face going white, her eyes tracking things only she could see.

"What did you do?" Clint asked me grimly, with more than a hint of violence in his tone.

"Knowledge is power, Agent Barton. I just gave her some." I handed the book to Bucky. "You're in there too," I said, my voice a little more gentle. "It's all about the Red Room. And a guy called the Wolf Spider."

"Niko Constantin?" Bucky said in confusion, and I nodded.

"It says that the program was terminated because he wouldn't be handled and he was sent to a gulag. There's a note toward the end that says that he trained some others in the gulag, they all called themselves wolf spiders. He had a powerful grudge against you for some reason. You might want to track that down sometime."

"Program?" Steve said, confused. Bucky nodded.

"It was a test program, for men, like the Black Widow program. There were a lot more girls than just Natasha."

"Natalia," I said, my voice glacial. Clint looked up at me. "Natalia Romanova. Born in 1928." Everybody stared at me.

"Where did you get this?" Bucky asked.

"From a criminal," I said. "I did a rough translation." Clint stood and strode over to me, grabbing me by the throat.

"What did you do to her?" he shouted.

"There was a list of terms," I said coolly. "Triggers. They were the key to her true memories. In the Red Room, they manipulated her memory, implanting fabricated memories. They all thought they got training at the Bolshoi Ballet. She's remembering things correctly now."

"That was cruel," Bucky said quietly.

"She is cruel," I said as quietly. "If she hadn't blown up my life, I would have just given her the book. Or maybe you."

I looked around. "Now get out of my store before I call the cops," I said to Tony directly. We had a staring contest that I won only because I lost patience and moved my hand to the panic button again.

"Avengers, assemble," he said to me, very sarcastically, and helped Clint with Natas--Natalia. Bucky, Sam, and Steve left with them. I waited until I could hear them on the street, locked the door behind me, and I went down the stairs, exiting through the alley. Because of the confrontation, I was late, and the afternoon was farther gone than I'd like. I didn't want to be caught with a gym bag of jewelry when it got dark.

I went straight home and placed the bag in the attic. I didn't know if I was going into the store tomorrow. I went into Loki's room. He usually kept things in a slight state of deliberate dishabille, but I could see where he'd gone through some things to pack. I straightened things listlessly, then stripped the bed, flicking the blankets back into place and plumping the pillows. I took the sheets and the laundry he hadn't had time to do and headed for the washer. I changed the towels and added them to the pile of laundry. I finally sat down on the edge of the sofa and wondered what I was going to do now.


	36. What comes next

I sat like that in the faded light, but I knew that one way or another, I'd have to face the consequences sometime, and better now than later. That teenager would have posted to social media, where the news would have spread. I hoped that my Poppy ID was still safe, at least from the public. I put a roast in the oven for a few days' dinners and sewed up the lining for the jacket. It didn't go into the sleeves; that lining was still in good condition, so I just inserted heavy-duty foam along the top of the arms to help absorb blows. I put in the heavy snaps at the back of the neck and attached a hood. Roomy enough to drape nicely around my head, black on the outside, plum on the inside. I restocked my utility belt and went downstairs. I heated some dinner rolls and made a serious salad to go with the roast, which was nicely rare. I took cookies into the living room and, as anesthetized as possible with chocolate, turned on my laptop to check the damage. 

The news had the ID of Paladin splashed all over, with renewed interest in Steve's death and return and the demise of our marriage. Even as I watched, there was breaking news. Somehow they'd made the connection with Poppy. That was turning into an even bigger storm. Man, Bruce Wayne was not going to be pleased with me. I shrugged irritably. Not my fault I'm observant. I went to a website that had been opened a couple of weeks ago and entered information. That done, I snapped the laptop closed and started for the stairs to get changed.

As I loped down, dressed in my outfit--the tights made a big difference--there was a knock on the door. "Emma?" Bucky called. I paused a moment. "I know you're on the stairs, I can hear you."

So I went down the rest of the stairs slowly and unlocked the door. As I opened it, a couple of flashes alerted me to the presence of the media. I immediately rolled to the side, out of view, and Bucky, Sam and Steve came in. Steve shut the door behind him. I sighed and gestured toward the living room.

"I'm seeing it, but I don't quite believe it still," Sam said, Looking at me. I shrugged. I didn't care what anybody believed.

"I'm surprised you're going out," Bucky said. I shrugged again.

Steve sat down and clasped his hands. As the others followed his lead, he said quietly, "Please help me understand this, because I'm just not getting it." Before I could say anything, there was a faint scratching from the kitchen and I moved quietly to the side of the hall, ready to pounce.

It was Peter, in his Spiderman suit. He pulled up his mask and gave me a great big hug. "How was the dance, honey?" I asked.

"Really? You're leading with that?" he asked in disbelief. It mattered to me that he have normalcy in school, I shrugged and he relented. "It was nice. Got some slow dances." He smiled. "MJ loves her earrings. They look really pretty on her." I smiled too. He looked from me to the others, and his voice sharpened. "What the hell, sirs?" he blurted out. God bless him. He has such nice manners. "How could you let that happen?"

"It was Tony," Sam said simply.

"Are you ok, mom?" he asked anxiously as he looked around, and I skrinched up my eyes against the prickle of tears. "Where's Loki?"

I let go of a gusty breath. "Thor found a job for him," I summarized. "He left after lunch."

"I thought he wasn't supposed to go til later," Bucky said. I spread my hands.

"Have you eaten?" I asked Peter.

"I could go for a sandwich," he said hopefully, and he followed me back to the kitchen. So did everybody else, but I was just feeding Peter. "So what happened after Loki left?" he said, crunching on leftover veggies.

I sat down at the table. "Well, I closed the store on time, I didn't have any more customers." I smiled slightly. "Catwoman came in in plain clothes, actually made a purchase."

"You think she was sorry?" Peter said eagerly.

"I do. It wasn't a cheap piece."

"Wait, what?" Sam asked, and I explained about the burglary. "And you recognized her, just like that," Sam said, staring at me. I shrugged yet again. The numbness was hard to shake.

"It's not that hard if you pay attention," I said. "Plus the look on her face when she saw the cats on the necklace confirmed it." I smiled slightly.

"So why... how did you...what led up to all of this?" Steve said finally.

"Part of that was me," Peter stated factually. "After the mess in Colorado, I mentioned that she could keep an eye on me if she moved here. I didn't actually anticipate that she'd go street-level, though. I probably should have," he said reflectively. I got up and gave him some cookies as praise for his analysis. Then I grudgingly offered some to the others. They all took a few. I was going to have to bake soon.

"That was why I came to New York," I continued. "I like heroing on the streets. You get to see the people you help directly, and I'm not some legendary fighter. I feel I'm doing more direct good. I chose the Poppy persona because it was diametrically opposed to, well, me. And Paladin."

"She puts a good face on the superhero community here," Peter said staunchly. "She's relatable and not scary. Or X-rated." Last week, Deadpool had gone on an epic rant while he was healing from a brawl. From Peter's reactions at the time, it must have been fairly educational for him. He got up and neatly put the dishes in the dishwasher, then turned it on. He leaned against the sink. "So what happened after you closed?"

"Natasha picked the lock and let everybody in," I said, scowling. I started to get angry again and got up to pace. Good thing I'm not like Bruce Banner. "Tony said that it was time for me to quit playing around and rejoin the Avengers. That's when a teenager and her dad came in. She heard it, and..."

Pete nodded. "Yeah, it's viral. It hit during the dance." Then he paused. "Wait. Why did he say that about your work? That's really mean. It's beautiful." I managed a little smile and squeezed his shoulder.

"I figured," I said. "Then Natasha said she'd been spying on me and knew I was Poppy."

"What?" Peter gasped.

"She's been following me around for awhile." The words left a bad taste in my mouth.

"I thought you guys were friends," Peter said. "She was your maid of honor."

"She was curious, apparently," I said icily. "Her loyalty is not to me." A new pounding started on the front door. Tony yelled my name. I snarled and flipped off the door, not that he could see it. "So she made me really mad. I'd come across a notebook a little bit ago, to backtrack just a bit. I did a really rough translation, enough to see that it concerned her and the Red Room, where she was trained. Part of that training was memory modification. There was a list of words and names in Russian that would restore her true memories. She made a crack about how knowledge was power...and that was the last straw. I can't speak Russian, so I put the list into an internet program and it pronounced the words. The memories came back."

"Holy shit," Peter said. "Sorry. What happened? Did it hurt her?"

"I don't think she's physically hurt," I said calmly. "Mentally, I don't know. Don't actually care. I wouldn't have actually done that if she hadn't goaded me. I'd have just given the book to Bucky, let her decide." The pounding on my door started up again. "Get the fuck off my property, Stark," I yelled with venom.

"No," came the furious reply. "You have some explaining to do."

"Uh-oh," Peter breathed. I marched past, opened the door, twisted my hand in the shirt at Tony's neck, and hauled him into the house, where I propelled him against the wall and buried my fist into his gut a few times, then hit his nose, making it bleed, and punched his junk. He folded to the floor like a card, where I had the long-withheld pleasure of actually kicking his ass.

"Huh," said Peter, looking down at Stark, who was writhing on the ground and squeaking. "So then what happened?" he asked, turning toward the living room.

"They left, I went out another way." Peter nodded. "I brought everything home, just in case Catwoman decided to come back for the other necklace she liked." We exchanged a grin as the three others came in and settled themselves. "I filed a claim against Stark, and was just about to patrol."

"Do you think that's wise?" Peter asked doubtfully. "With all the news?"

"Gotta do it sometime," I said grimly. He nodded reflectively.

"What are you going to do if you get hurt?" Sam asked in concern.

"Not coming back to the tower," Stark muttered.

"There are other resources," I said evasively, and Peter nodded staunchly. I should make another proactive donation to the Night Nurse.

"Dr Beast asked about you," Pete said, shaking his head. "I forgot to tell you. He asked the N-- he asked what your background was. He was talking about maybe bringing up some of his friends for this situation and maybe providing emergency care."

"That would be great," I said, sitting up. "He's so reassuring, don't you think?"

"He's huge, Emma," Peter said. "He's got claws. And fangs." I spread my hands.

"But he's smart and he has a lovely voice."

"What I want to know is where you bought your spine," Tony said, sitting up at last.

"You're bleeding on my floor," I said coldly. "Clean it up." Stark sneered at me and started swiping the floor with the arm of his suit coat.

"You're just making it worse," Pete said critically and went to the kitchen, returning with a roll of paper towels, a wad of damp paper towels, and a plastic bag. He dropped these things on the floor.

"I'm kind of surprised you're not packing," Steve said to me. His tone wasn't judgmental, just a little curious.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said, letting steel coat every syllable. "This is my home, where I have my business and where I am making my life. I'm not running anywhere despite all that's being done to make it hard for me. And don't push me too far. You won't like what comes next."

"Noted," Stark said, throwing the paper towels into the bag. "So what's the drug you're playing around with? Where did you get it? Did you steal it from me?" He got up and dropped onto the sofa, uninvited.

"It did come from Stark Tech," I said casually. "Patent expired. It was never really successful as a truth-inducing drug, but I found a way to make it work." I smirked, meanly pleased to finally get the opportunity to brag a little about the work. "And that's proprietary information," I said with enormous satisfaction. It had been difficult to get it to aerosolize, which is when I had the idea of putting it into perfume. It still hadn't worked quite right, so I'd looked through chemical structures until I found one that was alcohol, fat, and water soluble, to varying degrees, and nudged it onto the drug. It worked perfectly, dissolving into the perfume. It stuck to skin because it could attach to skin oils. I'd just found out fairly recently that the structure was also found in erectile dysfunction medications, which helped to explain the erections that most guys got when I was questioning them. Stark snorted and muttered something about me playing with fire.

"I've had it with your shitty attitude and insults," I said, then plopped down on his lap. I waved the vial under his nose and waited, watching his face closely until it got that familiar look that said the drug was effective; in this case it was liberally mixed with panic and fear. I felt his erection grow and smiled. I hoped it was unpleasant.

"Cool," said Peter. "I've never seen her interrogate anybody."

"Guys?" Tony said in panic. "A little help here?" His voice rose. Nobody said anything.

I decided to give him the deluxe version and plastered myself to him, from lap to shoulders. "Shit," he squeaked.

I lowered my voice and said, in as close a tone as I could manage to my altered one, "I'm sure you have a lot of things you can tell me, if I ask." I brushed his earlobe with my lips. He groaned and his dick jumped. "For example, would you like to tell me why you're such a shit to me? Why you keep screwing me over? Hmm? Would you like to tell me that?"

"No," he said immediately. 

"Maybe you'd like to explain why you're such an unpleasant person once your surface veneer of charm wears off?"

"No!"

"Well, this one is a question I'd really like an answer to," I said reflectively. "How did you get Con to choose you over me?"

"Don't," he whispered. I took his jaw in my fingers and looked into his eyes, and repeated my question. "She was envious of you when you got engaged. When we met, I think she thought it was her opportunity to one-up you. Maybe she could get herself somebody richer, more connected. She's ambitious. I understand ambition. I don't understand why money and recognition aren't more important to you. With your brains, you could really be somebody. She knew I liked you, said you'd be pissed if you found out, but she helped with the physiology parts of the project. She wanted to publish, but the government shut that down."

"What did Con say about your self-destructive tendencies?" I cooed.

"That I set myself up for failure," he said in defeat, finally relaxing. "That underneath it all I don't think I'm worthy of being liked for myself, so I find ways to keep proving it."

I let that stretch out, really let him think about that, then stood up. "Anything anybody else wants to know? Now is an excellent opportunity." Stark's eyes were closed, and tears were glinting at the corners.

"Naw, I'm good," Sam said. Bucky just shook his head.

"Can he build up an immunity to that stuff?" Steve asked.

"I haven't been able to," I said.

"That is amazing, mom," Peter said in fascination. "But man. The dirty laundry...."

"Yep. Which is why I didn't ask those questions," I said.

"Why did you ask the ones you did?" Stark said quietly.

"Because you took my oldest and best friend away from me. If I'd asked, she wouldn't have given me a straight answer. And I wanted to know if you knew why you keep fucking up."

"First, though, I didn't take your friend away. She chose her steps herself. And secondly, oh, I know," he said. "I just can't seem to do anything about it. And this kind of thing keeps proving that I don't deserve what I want."

"What's that?" Peter asked.

"Love, real acceptance, not just tolerance." He opened his eyes and looked at Peter. "You'll never understand. People like you and do everything they can to help you. Because you deserve it. You're a good kid."

Peter rolled his eyes. "She kept giving you chances, she bought enough of your company so that you can't be forced out, and she refused to sell her shares to Bruce Wayne, even after the really spectacular way you all dicked her over last. How is it that you couldn't recognize that kind of loyalty?"

Nobody said anything, and I hated that I was starting to feel a little sorry for Stark. I went into Loki's bathroom and dampened a kleenex with rubbing alcohol. I held it out to Stark. "Wipe your face with this." He did as I said without comment, and I took the tissue back. No point in giving him something to analyze later, once he recovered. I knew he would; his curiosity isn't something that can be repressed for long. Not that he'd get much; the molecules started to dissociate pretty quickly, which is why you need the person to get a really good snort at the beginning.

"Wayne tried to buy your shares?" Stark said, and I nodded. "Why didn't you sell?" This came out meeker than I though he wanted.

"Because I promised you that they would be used for your advantage, and secondarily, because with Pepper running the company, they're worth a hell of a lot more than I paid for them."

"But why do you care now?" Sam asked after a bit.

"I made a promise," I repeated irritably. "And maybe I shouldn't have done it, but I did."

"She lives up to her word," Steve said simply.

We sat there in a somehow repressive silence. I started to wonder how to get rid of everybody. I could take Pete with me and we could get to work.

"Wait a sec," Steve said. "You said you filed something against Stark?" That reminded me and I opened the laptop again. I had a second claim to make.

"Yep," I said briskly as I typed. "A couple of weeks ago, the New York state legislature passed a bill, signed by the governor a day later, that said that anybody who outs a superhero who is trying to keep their real identity a secret is liable for damages. There's a website set up to make the initial claim; it goes to a mediator. There's a mandatory fine payable to the state and damages to be determined that go to the outed hero. I think these two cases are the first ones."

I didn't miss the exchange of glances. "And no, I'm not going to be talked out of it just because we used to be teammates. If that mattered, I wouldn't be sitting here with all my identities in tatters. My former teammates would have respected me enough to keep quiet."

"Not saying a word," Bucky said.

There was another knock on the door. "What is this, Grand Central Station?" I asked in irritation, standing up and checking the peephole. With some reluctance, I opened the door for Hawkeye.

He took in my costume without saying a word, then looked into the living room at the others. "Hey," he said to them, jerking his chin up. "I've got a couple of things to say to you," he said to me.

"Go," I said, leaning against the door frame.

"First, thank you for the flowers at the...at the funerals. They were the only ones there. There weren't any to be bought locally, what with the power off and the time that passed... Laura...would have loved them." He cleared his throat. "Second, I didn't know that Nat was spying on you. I'm sorry she did and I would have told you if I knew, but that didn't give you the right to what you did with the memory thing."

"Perhaps not," I said slowly, "but she obviously thought that she didn't have to face accountability for her actions. But she does. I am tired of people running roughshod over me, Clint, and I am not going to permit it any more. If I am pushed, I'm pushing back." I met his eyes without flinching.

"I'm getting that," he said, and folded his arms. "You might not be interested in this right now, but there doesn't seem to be any physical effect from how you unlocked the memories. She has to sort through them and figure out how things are different than she thought. It's going to be hard and...unpleasant but not physically damaging." He sighed. "The doctors think that somehow whatever was done to mess with her mind was either starting to break down or was getting stricter." He looked at me square in the eyes. "Because the Nat I know wouldn't have done that without a better reason than just curiosity. She was the one who was talking about your identity on the street, just after we left. She was running her mouth a little. People overheard."

I nodded. It was good to know who did it. "You're right," I said. "I don't care right now." He nodded.

"Hey, are there any more cookies?"

Silently, I brought him three cookies wrapped in a napkin.

"So what's going on?" he asked as he ate. "Are you coming back to the Avengers?"

"I don't think so," I said slowly. "I'm street-level now. It's a better fit. I think I'm more suited to that kind of work than being one of 'Earth's mightiest heroes.' Because I'm not that. Mighty."

Clint nodded as he started on his last cookie. "I get that. But being mighty isn't just about bicep size or how many aliens you kill. It's about concern for the greater good. You can wield Mjolnir. You have a place on the team."

"With what's coming our way, you're going to need more than a whip and a staff," Pete said anxiously.

"Weapons I can make."

"I've got your poleaxe and that urumi thing in my vehicle," Clint said unexpectedly. He shrugged at the others. "Visited the storage unit where everything was put from the visitors center. Your old costumes are there."

"I understand why you wouldn't want to come back to the Avengers," Steve told me. "We haven't treated you very well. But would you help us coordinate with the street-level heroes? Everybody's help is going to be needed on this."

I considered it. "I can do that," I said finally.

"I'll help," Pete said immediately. I nodded at him.

"Let's canvas the ones we run across, see how willing they'd be to forming an alliance for the purpose of this invasion," I said to him, and we discussed how to explain the situation. The others listened, throwing in a suggestion or comment here and there. Pete was focused and ready to go. "That's my boy," I said fondly. "I'm proud of you." He blushed but seemed pleased.

"I'm going to head out now," he said, and gave me a kiss on the cheek on the way out to make a difference.

"I need an ice pack," Stark said, carefully standing up and walking to the door. Sam went with him to keep an eye on him. Clint went out with them to retrieve my weapons from his truck, then said good night. That left me with Bucky and Steve as I figured out how to put the urumi on the utility belt.

"It's amazing how a few changes can make such a huge difference," Steve said. "The eyes are really a nice touch." I smiled slightly.

"It's obvious in hindsight, though," Bucky said.

"Oh, completely," Steve agreed. "I feel stupid now."

"I need to get going," I said, not knowing what else to say. They nodded, and Steve hugged me gently.

"Stay safe," he said. "We're going to suit up, so we may see you out there." I could tell how hard it was to not start ordering me around--or trying to--or asking me to stay in, and I appreciated his restraint. I gave him a squeeze before stepping back.

"You've had a bad day," Bucky said. "Keep that in mind and don't take on too much." He gave me a brisk hug. I showed them out the front door and went out the back.

My new jacket was so nice and warm. I moved quickly, wanting to get to the battleground, talk to my peers, finding out what my reception would be, seeing what they had to say about the alien invasion.

I don't know what I'd do without my work.


	37. Facing the music

I made it to my neighborhood pretty quickly, not encountering anybody on the street. First things first. I went up to my vantage point. I surveyed the streets and alleys, but I couldn't see anybody moving.

"So. Ms Harrington," Batman's voice said flatly. I turned and looked around. Nobody else.

"Mr Wayne," I acknowledged him. He surveyed me, then he seemed to relax a bit.

"You've got guts coming out tonight," he said finally, his voice a little grumbly.

"It's better to face the music quickly. And I don't believe my courage is really an issue," I said tartly.

A small smile curved the corner of his mouth. "I like you best when you're not trying to placate, or smooth things out, when you just stand up and say what you believe."

"It's a lot easier," I agreed.

"So...how are you dealing with it?" he said, scuffing his foot on the rooftop.

"By coming out here and hoping for some ass that I can reasonably expect to kick," I said bluntly, and he laughed. "We have more of a problem than you might realize," I added.

"Tell me." So I did, and he listened carefully.

"I've never heard of either of these species, but I'll do my research. I'll call in Superman, Wonder Woman, some other friends."

"That would be great," I said. "I can't help thinking we're in over our heads."

"Might be," he acknowledged. "But if we all put the word out to all the other supers we know..."

"Yep. Stark's going to notify the authorities so they can plan their response. Thor is gathering information and allies from what they call the Nine Realms."

"What are they?" he asked, curious. I shrugged.

"I don't really understand it. All I really get is that there are nine places, but I don't know if they're separate universes or part of the same multiverse or what. Big Physics isn't my best subject."

"Big Physics?" he said, almost laughing.

"Little physics, I get. Stuff like rotation, momentum, temperature, force, all that kind of stuff. I start to fuzz out when I hit special and general relativity. If I can't put my hands on it or see it, I'm not very good at it." I sighed. "I bet you're great with conceptual physics."

"Well--" he started to say modestly.

"Selena came in and bought a necklace today. Really the high point of my day. I was kind of expecting a nocturnal visit."

He reached up and rubbed his cheeks before tugging briefly on his bat ears. "What are you going to do with that information?"

"Not a damned thing," I said. "I took it as an apology."

"As it was meant," the woman under discussion purred, stepping out from the shadows. "I wondered if you might have recognized me, but I couldn't tell."

"That's surprisingly... good of you, Selena," he said, observing her closely. She did a full-body shrug.

"Well, I did feel a little guilty."

"If you want to come back during daylight, I'll give you a 'friends and family' discount," I offered, smiling slightly, and she laughed.

"For that, I will try to be good," she purred.

"She has poor impulse control," Batman said wearily.

"That's kind of a hallmark of supers, I'm beginning to realize," I said. "Well, I need to be going. I have faces to face. Selina, Bruce has information you should hear." She darted a look at him.

"Well, I'll walk you down first. I really do love my new necklace. I must say that it's more satisfying when it's an acquisition, but it was worth every pretty penny. Now, that Black Widow probably doesn't really have anything worth liberating, but would you like me to pay Iron Man a visit? It doesn't have to be the sparkly stuff, you know," she continued. "It could be anything of value. Information, rare books, vintage champagne for toasting your victory... you did file a claim against him, didn't you?"

I smiled at her, appreciating the offer. "I did. No thanks, though, I had the opportunity to hit him earlier tonight. That was more satisfying." I shook my head. "I really thought that I'd gotten past the urge to hit during an argument, and Stark won't hit a woman, so it is unfair."

"I hope you hurt him where it counted." Her voice was hard. "You didn't deserve what he did. Or that woman."

I thought back to Tony, helpless against the truth perfume and the vengeance I'd exacted on Natasha. Natalia. Whatever. "I think I established my displeasure pretty clearly."

Selina forced a smile. "Good. Men like that need to be reminded that they don't own everybody."

As I left--I'd seen some police cars-- I put Catwoman out of my mind. I was just in time to help a couple of police officers subdue a group; mostly humans, but also Killer Croc. I helped hold him at the end while special restraints were brought.

"Thanks, Poppy," one of them said to me. "I'm surprised you're out tonight."

"Nothing to be gained by putting it off," I said. She nodded, considering this.

"There are a couple of reporters looking for you, I think most of them figured you'd be hiding out." The other officer started putting the restraints on Croc.

"Told you she's not the type to hide," the other cop said, grunting as he got the heavy locks to engage. "Glad you're out here, Poppy. I don't know what's going on, but it's weird."

"I've noticed," I said. "Might get weirder before it gets better."

"It'd be a help if you'd talk to those reporters. I think that if they can get a quote they'll go home instead of wandering around by themselves." And needing rescue, probably. I nodded, and he told me where to go.

"I'd rather face Croc again," I mumbled, and both cops laughed. I trudged up and over a few streets to where there was an unofficial command post; it was guarded by the National Guard around the clock; cops and reporters could check in and citizens could get help. The situation would be a lot worse without their competent presence. Sure enough, there were four reporters clustered in a tight knot under a street lamp, including Colin from the Daily Bugle, who to everybody's surprise was fair and thoughtful about the supers. I bet it made their editor's blood boil.

"Poppy," he said, the first of the gang to see me. That got everyone's attention and they started firing questions. They all boiled down to how I felt about being outed.

"Pretty peeved, actually." That got a couple of appreciative laughs. "Not every super has a secret identity, but those of us who do have reasons for it."

"What are your reasons, Poppy?"

"Well, mainly that I wouldn't have to be answering this kind of question," I said flippantly, getting a couple more laughs. "But mainly because I'm not doing it for the attention. I just wanted to something to help other people. Sure, we talk when I help take down suspected criminals, we banter, but otherwise, I'm free to live my life just like everybody else. Or I was. Nobody is particularly interested in me as myself, and I liked it that way."

"You show up in the society pages sometimes," one reporter objected.

I nodded. "Sure, I go to parties, I helped with that fundraiser for the Seattle victims of the earthquake. But you can check with those reporters. I don't go running after them to get my name and face in the paper."

"You own a business," started another one.

"And I obviously didn't trade on the superhero angle to get publicity for it. My work stands on its own merits. You like it or you don't. Buy it or not. But I'm not looking for people to come and gawk at me for wanting to make an honest living doing something I'm good at just because I hunt criminals on the side." That actually made them think a moment, then the moment seemed to pass.

I was asked how I felt about being outed by my former teammates. "Having my identity revealed was not what I wanted, for the reasons I told you about," I said slowly, then decided to dispense with the tact. "It hurts. A lot. They knew how much I wanted to keep the two parts of my life separate, and to have them behave so carelessly ... sucks. Even the supervillians usually don't go after secret identities. Sure, probably everybody would like to know who Batman is, but I'm definitely not in that league. Street-level, not super." I shrugged.

"I got some quotes from some of the Avengers earlier this afternoon," one woman said. She flicked through her old-fashioned notebook. "'Thor: Emma Harrington is a great warrior and deserves to dwell in Valhalla after her mortal life ends-' I shuddered at the thought--' but Stark and I will be discussing his actions.'"

"Yikes," I said, and she smiled.

"Quicksilver: 'I owe her my life. I miss her.' Captain America: Paladin was an important part of the Avengers during her tenure. I understand why she chose to be a street-level hero. She can't not help.' When asked if he had any comment about his former wife, he said 'no.' Winter Soldier: "It's never been about recognition for her but about what she can do for others. She's not good at getting thanks. And you shouldn't bother her about it.'" She looked at me. "That last was in a slightly threatening tone, by the way."

I smiled. "He's a nice guy."

"All these heroes are weird," the last reporter muttered. I laughed.

"I honestly can't disagree with that. We do let our freak flags fly," I said sweetly, and that got appreciative grins.

I'd given them their quotes, now they started walking to a car; reporters, even from different publications, had started traveling in packs. Colin patted my shoulder on the way by. "Off the record," he said, and I nodded. "Something big and ugly is coming down."

"I think so," I said, and he nodded, hurrying to catch up with the others.

That was actually the last excitement of the night. I didn't see another person aside from the Guard and a few cops here and there. Not a villain, not a supervillain, not a hero of any stripe. That can't be good. I went home, puzzled.

The next morning, my exposure (lucky they hadn't gotten wind of what happened my first day on the job) was below the fold on the papers' front page. Somewhat to my surprise, there wasn't much of an effort to turn up the details of my past. There was my basic biography: education, employment, a quote from an old friend or a teacher. My deadbeat dad was brought up, my marriage. The quotations from last night. Martha Ralston, the woman I'd spoken to, had an additional quotation for us at the end of her article: "When contacted, Iron Man/Tony Stark said, 'I'm an *censored*.'" I grinned.

Colin practically wrote me a valentine. He had nice quotes from the mayor, some of the cops, a few people I'd helped, a couple of the criminals I'd busted, and from a cross section of society. Including one Bruce Wayne, who opined that secret identities enabled those who had the desire and skills to help to be able to assist their fellow citizens without fear of reprisal and that those who revealed identities should be put in jail. Good ol' Batstiff. 

I drove to work, making my deposit at the bank before going to the store. I missed Loki a lot; his presence and support meant a lot to me. I wondered if this was how parents felt when their kids moved out, went to college. Setting up, I missed his knack for making attractive displays, and I especially missed his charm when I unlocked the door. I was busy start to finish; a lot of people wanted to gawk at me and the store, but a surprising number of people actually bought. Most people were polite, although a couple of men opined that I must be a lesbian since my marriage to Captain America didn't last and I was heroing on the side. I seemed very masculine to them. I showed one of them a set of cufflinks and told them, with the manner of a boring sociology professor I'd had way back when, that non-traditional choices and physical strength didn't indicate homosexuality. Being called on their comments upset them, and I had to ask them to leave. Shortly before I closed, a woman I'd seen at a few parties came in with her friends and while looking at a sapphire bracelet, implied that 'street-level hero' was the same thing as a streetwalker. She knew she'd scored; a self-satisfied smile curved her lips. My mouth ran away from me; I said that when I said I wanted to serve the community, I didn't have to do it on my back and that it felt good to be useful rather than a parasite who was leeching through her third husband's trust fund. That lost me a few customers.

"Dammit," I said, putting away the bracelet.

"Good for the soul, not good for the profit margin," an accented voice said, and I looked up from locking the case to see Pietro and Wanda.

"Oh," I said. "Hey."

"We came to apologize," Wanda said.

"Hang on," I said quietly, as I escorted the remaining customers out and locking the door.

"Ok. Now, what's this about?"

The twins looked at each other. "We were wrong not to tell you about what was happening with Steve. We didn't want to upset you, but we didn't want to make the others mad at us either," Wanda said.

"It was easier to say nothing," Pietro said. "And then it seemed too late to apologize. Loki said we were being stupid and that it's only too late to apologize when you're dead. And then the Winter Soldier reminded me last night what I owe you." He drew a deep breath. "We owe you more than we can hope to repay. The least we can do is apologize now. And we thought that we could help you with a problem. With Loki gone now, you are shorthanded here. We could fill in for him, and we would work for free."

"I'm surprised that you're apologizing after all this time," I said neutrally, and Wanda bit her lip, crossing her arms.

"We were wrong, and time doesn't make us less wrong," she said quietly. "It just makes us worse."

Her statement surprised me for some reason. "Ok," I found myself saying. "Thank you for the apology. As you can see, I'm not the best salesperson, especially not now. So come in at nine, unless this whole alien thing blows up between now and then, and I'll show you what to do. And if you work here, I'm obligated to pay you, so while appreciate your offer, you'll be getting paid by the hour." The twin's smiles were small but genuine. "Bring your documentation, too. We've got paperwork." I sighed at the thought. "Better be here at 8:30." They thanked me both for accepting their apology and their offer, and I let them out. I knew they didn't need the money; as Avengers, they got very generous salaries plus excellent benefits from Avenger Tech. They were doing me a favor; I was crabby from having missed lunch and having to deal with jerks. And the two of them would be able to handle five cases between them, leaving me free to work. I packed my gym bag again and went home.

I wasn't home ten minutes before there was a knock on the door. I pulled on socks and went downstairs to find Steve and Bucky on the porch. Even more welcome, they had pizzas. Steve also had a bag, which I knew would contain salads. We went back to the kitchen, then Bucky bolted out again, having forgotten something.

Steve paused where he was pouring water for us. "I want to be sure you know how sorry I am," he said with no preamble. "I'm sorry for letting myself be talked into not being honest with you when I was dying. I keep underestimating you. I lost you and I deserved it, but you didn't deserve to be hurt like that. We weren't treating you like an equal, let alone a teammate, and I wasn't a good husband. And out of that, you've made something really amazing for yourself. I'm sorry for all of it, and I can't believe that we screwed you over yet again."

I sat down while I was listening to him. "Well, it was just Stark and Natasha," I said reasonably. "And no, I'm still not sorry for having triggered her memory," I said. "I think that it might be troublesome for Bucky, and I regret that, but I still think she had it coming."

"I understand that," he said, also sitting down. "And Bucky finished translating the notebook last night. He thinks that there wasn't a physical risk to triggering her, and the mental risk is being overwhelmed by the memory, but that's pretty low. I saw her today and she's subdued and tired, but she's not even really upset right now. I think knowing her past is better than not." I nodded.

"Tomorrow night, we're calling for a meeting of all the supers. The President is scheduled to make a speech tomorrow , alerting the country to the threat and we want to get a plan to him beforehand. Once the aliens know we know, there will probably be an immediate response."

"Either that or they'll hold back entirely for awhile to make it look like a lie and there's not threat until they're ready to move," I pointed out.

"Good point," Bucky said, coming in with a cheesecake. My eyes got big with avarice. I felt like Catwoman with an expensive necklace. "But there's video and we have the corpse of a Kree." I nodded as Bucky seated himself and we dove into the pizza. I sated my hunger on the good stuff first, then crunched through a reasonable amount of salad before finishing with one more piece of pizza. I restrained myself. I had to save room for the cheesecake.

My costume was a little tight.

It looked like patrolling wouldn't be too hard again; I avoided the reporters and ran into Deadpool. I let him know about the meeting and the reason for it. He got so excited about the aliens that it took a good five minutes to calm him down, then he ran off to let his friend Wolverine know. I took a minute to call Bruce; he said that Stark had reached out to him. Then he said he was bringing all the Bat folk with him and I winced.

"Even Damian?" I said, aware that I sounded pitiful.

"Yes," he said. I thought I heard a hint of regret.

"Ok," I said, trying for some pep. "See you tomorrow!"

Wow. I slid my burner phone into my utility belt. I was going to need a stiff drink before the meeting if there were more like that kid. I froze when I heard a "phummm" sound, followed by a "ting!" sort of ping. I turned around to see a tall buff blue guy who was pointing some...thing at me in a threatening sort of way. I started to regret not taking Bucky up on his offer for shooting weapons. Like a bazooka.


	38. Fighting my first alien on home turf. The arena doesn't count.

I ducked down and rolled away just as a bolt of some kind of energy emitted from the weapon. I could feel the physical impact of the bolt hit my shoulder and the nerves scream even though my skin wasn't burned. I pulled out my staff and flicked it open, bringing it down on the Kree's wrist. Didn't have much effect; I felt it was much like poking somebody with a toothpick. The Kree backhanded me hard and I smacked into the wall. For the first time in a long time, I straightened the handle of the urumi and pulled it off the belt. The sheath slithered to the ground and it only took a couple of arm rotations to get it moving properly. The Kree looked baffled.

Until the blades bit savagely into his arm. Then he screamed.

It took longer to kill somebody with this thing than I thought it would. Or maybe it was just because he was so much larger than a human.

A thin reddish-violet blood sprayed everywhere.

Finally, I stopped.

"Poppy?" a voice asked from behind me. "What is that?"

I looked around. A couple of cops I'd worked with before were standing behind me, their guns hanging at their sides, looking between me and the thing on the ground uncomprehendingly.

"This is what's next," I said after a moment. "It's called a Kree, apparently."

"What the fuck?" one of them breathed. Then he looked at me accusingly. "How long have you known that these things are out there?"

"A couple of days. We have been collecting information, which was presented to the authorities. The President is going to address the country tomorrow night. We haven't been hiding anything."

"How many of these things are there? What do they want?" the other one asked.

"Dunno about numbers, but they want to add the Earth to their empire," I said grimly. "There's another species as well. They are shapeshifters. We've heard that they can't be told apart from humans just by looking at them, but they're kind of reptilian in appearance in their true form and green in color. So far the only way we can think of to tell what they are is the blood. Look here." I used my good knife to pierce my skin and draw a drop of blood. "Ours is red. Theirs is a blue-green, I've heard."

One cop asked for my knife; I handed over one of my throwing knives. His blood shined red in the light of his flashlight. He poked his partner's finger without asking.

The blood welled up green.

The...critter? what were they called again? tried to run, but the other cop brought him down and handcuffed him. "What do we do now?" the cop asked, steady despite his big eyes and rapid breathing.

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed. "Steve?" I said. "Got something you need to see."

It took about fifteen minutes, but by the time Steve showed up with reinforcements, the Kree's blood had stopped dripping. The three of us waited in silence. I flicked the last of the blood off the urumi and reattached it to my belt. The cop sat on his captive's back. Nobody said anything.

I heard the whine of a quinjet setting down in the intersection. "Emma!" Steve called out.

"Over here."

He pounded up followed by an unlikely crew. Bucky, of course, and Clint and Tony, but also Professor Xavier, Beast, Wolverine, and a tall man I hadn't met. "What happened?"

"I was surprised by the Kree," and I indicated the lump on the ground. "Then the policemen showed up and I had to explain. I told them about the blood difference, which is when we discovered that one. The Skrull. Officer Peterson incapacitated him. It?" Clint had gone to look at the Kree.

"This thing isn't going to fit into the body bag," he observed. First things first, as a matter of practicality. Tony sighed in exasperation and they trotted back to the jet. Well, Clint trotted.

"Dr McCoy," I said as he approached me.

"Poppy," he said. "Or would you prefer Emma?"

I tried to summon up a smile. "At this point, it doesn't matter much."

"Are you injured?"

"No," I said. "It takes a lot to hurt me. The mess is not from me."

"May I ask how you produced those results?" he asked, and I uncoiled the urumi, sliding it our of its sheath to show it to the doctor who would be conducting the autopsy. He asked to touch it, and I nodded. "It's extremely sharp, please be careful." He accidentally cut off the tip of the claw he was poking the blades with. He looked astonished.

"Mess up your manicure?" Wolverine asked. He'd wandered over to take a look. Professional curiosity, I guessed.

"Amazing," Dr McCoy murmured. Wolverine nudged the edge of the blades with one of the metal claws that crept out of his hands. I'd seen it before, but it was even more unsettling when he did it slowly. The look on his face when one of the blades bit into his claw was priceless.

"Well, mon ami, you have met your match," the tall man said to Wolverine. His voice was thick and textured with a sexy Louisiana accent. "We have not met, cherie," he said to me. "I am Gambit."

"Poppy,' I said, extending my hand to shake his. "Or Emma. Either one is fine."

"Enchante," he murmured, kissing the back of my hand lightly rather than shaking it. Wolverine rolled his eyes and handed the weapon back to me.

"What's that thing made of?" he said to me brusquely.

"Lots of things," I said evasively. I was saved from more demands for information, I think, by Bucky's arrival. He looked at the others suspiciously, then looked me over.

"Got a hole in your jacket," he observed.

"Yep." I sighed. "I'll have to see if I can repair it. Figures. I just get it and it's already messed up."

"This is why we can't have nice things," Bucky said. I smiled briefly. "What do you need now?"

"A wet washcloth, pressingly," I said. "Then... do you think you could give me a quick and dirty intensive course in marksmanship?"

A small crease formed between his eyebrows. "You can get the worst of it off in the jet. Are you sure about the guns? You've always refused, before."

"It took over five minutes to kill that Kree," I said softly. "If it had had friends with it, I'd have been toast."

"Right. I'll set something up for you tomorrow." He gave me a searching look, then nudged me toward the jet.

"Is she gonna to be ok?" I heard Gambit ask.

"She just doesn't like killing. It would have been hard on her to hack away for so long. It'll be better if she can put them down quicker," Bucky said as I walked away.

I used moist towelettes to wipe the worst off my skin and the leather of my costume. Couldn't do anything about my tights, and I was going to need a really good shower to get it out of my hair. Then I splashed water on my face after washing my hands really well.

"Heard you asked Bucky for shooting lessons," Steve said behind me, and I nodded. "I'm sorry," he said after looking at me for a moment. "I know you don't like guns."

"I think we'll all be doing things we don't like by the end of this," I said quietly, putting the towel into a bin.

"Still," he said, and I smiled a little.

"Am I done here?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Take this," he said, and handed me a com button. "Call before you engage again, if there's time, so we can provide backup." I nodded and fit it into my ear.

"I'll come with you," Clint said, nudging me to the side as the plastic-wrapped corpse was brought in. "I don't know this part of town very well yet."

We left the jet, and I climbed up the side of a building so I could do some roof running. Hawkeye had to use the fire escape. "That's new," he said to me when he joined me.

"Rock climbing walls. Parkour lessons," I said, then took off. It took longer with Hawkeye because he wasn't used to the jumping and additional challenges of roof running, but he did quite like my observation point.

"This is nice," he said, puffing a bit from the exertion and looking around. He hopped on top of the stairwell structure and began orienting himself.

"It's crowded up here tonight," Batman said behind me.

"Not much more than usual," I said, turning. "Do you deliberately like to come up behind me?"

A hearty chuckle directed my attention to the side. "This is Batgirl," Batman said to me.

"That's Hawkeye," I said, indicating my companion, who looked at us and smirked.

"Nice to meet you," Batgirl said to me, holding out her hand and shaking mine firmly. "Sorry to hear about your outing. You work hard to maintain your privacy, it's unconscionable that somebody you trusted would be so careless. You're suing him, I hope."

"I filed," I said, repressing a smile.

"He got insurance as soon as the bill passed," Clint said. I snorted.

"You only need that coverage if you don't respect others' wishes," Batgirl said tartly. Clint shut up. "I'll be seeing you at the meeting tomorrow night, I presume," she said to me, and smiled when I nodded.

"Excellent. I'm looking forward to having a new colleague. Do you know what the specifics are?"

"An introduction to the Kree-Skrull war, as far as I know," I said.

"What do you know?" she asked. "This is a big step up even for us."

"The Skrulls you have to see to believe. One of them fooled a cop completely, posed as his partner. Who knows how long they've been here? Kree are big, blue, and tough," I said.

Batman snorted. "It took me more than five minutes to kill one," I told him expressionlessly. "They have energy weapons. I"m lucky to be alive." Well, lucky and thick-skinned. Batman frowned and looked me over. He scowled when he saw the hole in my jacket.

"I can have that fixed for you," he said, touching the skin visible through the hole. I could see Clint looking between us. Lord knew what was going on in his head.

"Thank you, but no. I need it. It's cold tonight." Even with the bodysuit zipper completely up.

"I could have something made for you that would be warmer." Batgirl rolled her eyes.

"No thank you," I said. "I'm done with having my image managed." Batgirl patted my arm.

"It was brilliantly done," she said. "I never would have connected the Paladin with Poppy." I smiled a little; it was nice to hear. She handed me her burner phone, so I reciprocated, trading numbers. "So when you say that it took five minutes to kill that thing..."

"Using Paladin's urumi," I said, showing her the weapon.

"How does that work?"

I stood way back from everybody and quickly got the weapon singing. I saw Bruce take something from his utility belt and toss it into the air. I easily flicked it with the end of the weapon and it broke into several pieces. I automatically stilled the urumi around my leg and coiled it up, retrieving a couple of the pieces of the thing Bruce had thrown. "That's not supposed to happen," Batgirl said, frowning. "The Batarangs are made from the strongest steel."

I quirked an eyebrow at her. She looked at me as I encased the urumi in its sheath and attached it to my belt again. "So what are you leveling up to?"

"I'll be taking shooting lessons later today," I said with a sigh. She tensed, and from the look on her face, I could tell she liked guns even less than I did.

"I'm a lot more at home with computers than firearms," she said.

"Then you might want to find a way to use that skill instead," I said, touching her shoulder. "It's going to be brutal." Her face was disturbed and set. I looked over to Bruce.

"Batarangs?"

He squirmed. It looked like his costume had suddenly given him a wedgie. "It's a branding opportunity." My effort to suppress my grin resulted in an epic smirk instead. Batgirl smiled a little.

"It is pretentious, isn't it?" she asked. "Let's go, Batman, we've got a lot to do," she said briskly, and I heard her start in on Batman as they dropped over the edge. "Quit hitting on her, for heaven's sake. I swear, your libido goes into overdrive when you put that suit on. She's had a hard time lately and the last thing she needs is--" her voice faded out.

"Oh, really?" Clint said, grinning at me as he hopped down. I rolled my eyes.

"I don't see how he thinks he can work anybody new into his rotation," I said, shrugging.

He let it drop--for now. "How do you get down?" he asked, peering over the edge.

"I take the stairs. Going up is one thing. But going down-ugh." I felt my hands get clammy. "It's a lot easier to go splat." I held the door for him and we walked down the street.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked.

"I didn't see any movement," I said, and he agreed. "So I'm going to stop at a diner, get some breakfast, head home."

"I could eat," Clint said, and ten minutes later we were eating heartily at one of the few diners still open around the clock. They were located by the temporary command posts so had the protection they needed for the employees and there was somewhere for the cops, Guard, and the odd hero to get pancakes and coffee and warm up. We ate mostly in silence. I was weary from the fight and Clint was mostly just hungry. We were almost done when the bell on the door rang and I looked over to see Bucky and Steve. They came over to us and slid into our booth.

"Anything new?" Clint asked, and Steve shook his head as he and Bucky took menus from the waitress. She had a small plate of bacon with her, which she set down in front of me.

"You've been through the wringer," she told me. "On the house."

"Thank you," I said, my mouth watering. "This is delicious." She smiled at me and took Steve and Bucky's orders, not blinking at the sheer quantity of it all. 

"DId you two see anything?" Steve asked as their breakfasts started to arrive.

"Fat lot of nothing," I said. "Streets were quiet."

"That doctor and the guy in the wheelchair went with Stark to do the autopsy," Bucky reported. "The other ones dispersed. Spiderman came by, wanted to talk to you, Emma." I nodded. "Can you make time around lunch for shooting?"

"Yeah," I said. "The twins will be working tomorrow, and if it gets to be too much, they can just close the doors until I get back."

"Wanda and Pietro?" Steve asked, and I nodded.

"They offered to help while my assistant is traveling." Bucky gave me a piece of toast, which I started to nibble. "It was nice of them. My sales technique could use some work."

'You're not going to be a marksman after rudimentary training, you know," Steve said to me. I nodded, dropping the remaining toast onto my plate.

"I know. I just want to be able to hit the broad side of a barn; otherwise, I don't know how much good I'm going to be able to do," I said, looking down at the table. 

"Maybe not against the Kree, but those Skrulls sure looked less formidable," Clint said draining his coffee. We said goodnight (good morning?) to Bucky and Steve and left. When I got home, it hit me. Now that my identification was public, I could take Sigurd and Torburn places with me. I told the boys and they seemed excited. I took a fast shower and curled up under the duvet.

I woke up late, having hit the snooze bar a few too many times. Fortunately I was still full from breakfast, although the big meal so soon before sleeping seemed to have given me nightmares. The little dogs had a little doggy door to the back yard where they could run around at their pleasure, so after making sure everybody had water and food, the big dogs and I piled into the car and went to work. They hadn't been since before I opened, and there were a lot of new smells to be investigated. I let Wanda and Pietro in at 8:30 and they were pleased to see the dogs although unsure how the dogs would receive them. They were gracious, though, and Pietro threw a ball for them as he and Wanda did their paperwork. I scanned their documentation, then I showed them how to run credit cards, update the inventory, and print out the certificates of authenticity. They found the gift wrapping supplies for those who wanted that service, and I had them put the jewelry in the cases themselves to familiarize themselves with the stock while going over the security procedures. It was a lot to take in, and I told them to be sure to ask questions.

"I've got an appointment at lunch," I told them as I looked at the cases, mostly approving how they'd set them up, a few suggestions here and there. "I'm sorry to do this to you on your first day, but if you feel overwhelmed, you can shut down the store until I return." They looked a little nervous. When it was time to open, I flicked the locks open, and the dogs stayed up front for moral support as I sat down at the bench.

It was hard to concentrate, though. I kept an ear out for my new salespeople, rescuing Pietro from a problem with the credit card reader, helping Wanda with a customer who wanted to know about gemstone enhancements. In between, though, I was flagging. I wasn't getting enough sleep, for one thing. Another thing was that the pending alien invasion had me concerned. I knew enough from watching practice and seeing the Avengers in the field that a lot of training was needed to limit friendly fire and to hit what you were aiming at. Time we didn't really have. By the time I went to the tower, I was depressed and discouraged. The dogs were awesome, though. Customers had been excited to see them; they were arguably more popular than all the Avengers and me put together, and walking over to the tower they were noticed and complimented. They flanked me when I approached the desk and asked for Bucky. The guard at the desk was nervous although they were on their best behavior, so I stood back.

Bucky was prompt, and escorted me to the elevator that went down to the shooting range. "You look tired," he said once we got into the elevator.

"I don't think I should eat so much before going to sleep," I said.

"Indigestion?"

"Nightmares."

"That wasn't due to the bacon," Bucky said gently. "You know what caused them." The door opened directly onto the range. We were the only ones down here, and he led me to a table where there were several handguns laid out with piles of magazines. I listened attentively as he explained range safety then patiently showed me the differences between several different types of pistols. There were a few different manufacturers and calibers, and in short order, he showed me how to stand correctly and grip the pistol, then had me fire a few rounds from each one so I could find one that I was most comfortable. The Glock 26 that fired 9mm rounds fit my hand the best, and Bucky said it was because it was a subcompact size. I liked the use of the metric system rather than a caliber size that I didn't really understand except in relative terms, such as a 0.40 caliber was a lot bigger than a 0.22. Bucky chuckled when I mentioned this. "I prefer the metric system too," he admitted. "It's so weird that most Americans don't."

I put my ear protection on, and he watched me as I fired magazine after magazine, working hard to improve my accuracy, offering corrections. Finally we were running low on time and he showed me how to disassemble and clean the gun; he refused my offer to help clean the other ones, and we walked to the elevator. "So what are you thinking?" he said, putting his arm around my shoulders. I leaned into his shoulder for a moment.

"That my aim isn't bad on a target range, but I don't think I'm nearly ready to use a gun around people. I worry about shooting someone accidentally. I waited too long to learn, and I don't know if I'm going to be any use." Tears formed in my eyes, stinging. My eyes were dry and gritty from lack of sleep. I bit the inside of my cheek, not wanting to be a baby.

"Ok, doll," he said, gathering me into a tight hug. "Listen to me. A gun is a tool. In a situation like earlier this morning, when it was just you and the Kree, you could have shot him and saved yourself a really gruesome... incident. And don't pretend that whipping that thing to death didn't affect you." He readjusted the hug and I snuggled in a little. "That's better. Those things are unbelievably tough. But the physical exam of that fake cop, the Skrull, shows that they're a lot more like us. You can use your staff and whatever else you want and put them down." I tentatively put my arms around him and he gave me a little squeeze. "So you're a lot more useful than you think. You won't have to sit this one out if you don't want to," he said softly. The elevator doors opened. "You can decide when to use the pistol and when not to. And we're anticipating some time before the outright battles start. We can practice more." The dogs strolled into the elevator and Bucky gave me a pat before letting go. We talked more on the ride up to the lobby. Steve was waiting for us.

"How'd you do?" he asked me, petting Torburn.

"I didn't completely suck," I said. Steve looked at Bucky and I knew they'd be talking after I left.

"The meeting tonight is at seven," Steve told me. "Not to tell you what to do, but it would be a good idea to have a nap first. You look exhausted."

"You look perky," I said.

"I slept in."

"There's been a lot of coffee," Bucky added. I smiled briefly.

"Ok, see you tonight. Thank you for the lesson, Bucky," I said, and they escorted me to the door. There was a bit of a kerfuffle as the dogs wanted to use the revolving door, but eventually we got out and I started back to work. The twins were doing well; it was helpful that we hadn't been as busy. We went through the closing procedure when it was time, and I thanked them for their work. They'd done a good job. On the way home, I stopped by the headquarters of the Brooklyn police and took advantage of the 'hero law', which allowed for expedited licenses for heroes who had worked in New York safely for over a year. After a demonstration that I could shoot safely, a quick test, photograph, fingerprinting, official acknowledgment of my history as a hero, and a check of my criminal record, I was issued a license to purchase and own a handgun, and a permit to carry concealed. Then there were some pictures taken with the officials, and the dogs and I went home. I did take a nap before getting up to make dinner for all of us. I had to hurry to get ready for the meeting; I fussed a bit, but decided to wear the costume so I could go out and patrol afterward. I didn't have time to fix the hole from the night before, so I just ignored it. The pups went with me when I left. We stopped at a drugstore on the way.


	39. Meeting a bunch of strange heroes

When we arrived at the tower, chairs were set up in the lobby with a center aisle that faced a small platform and a 3D projector. I took a far-side end seat so that I could sit with the dogs. Pete came over to say hi to the dogs; I got a hug and questions about how I was doing. As we talked, more people arrived and Pete excused himself to talk to some of the others. Deadpool stopped for a word or two, then introduced me to Colossus, Negasonic Teenage Warhead (now there was a name she was bound to regret once she hit her twenties), Shadowcat, and Rogue. Professor Xavier rolled up and introduced me to Storm, Agent Brand, Archangel, Iceman, Forge, and discreetly gestured to the top of one of the columns, where Nightcrawler perched. Dr McCoy joined us before I saw Thor enter the room and excused myself to speak with him.

"Emma!" he said, patting me firmly on the back. Torburn and Sigurd greeted him as well, and I had the impression that that they were communicating with him beyond their quiet barks and vocalizations. "Before you ask, I had speech with my brother yesterday and he is well and undamaged." I smiled. "And I will convey your greetings the next time I encounter him." I thanked him.

"How are Sif and Magni?" I asked.

"They are back on Asgard with my father, who is preoccupied with the current threat," Thor said.

"You're quite the diplomat," I said, teasing, and he flashed me a smile before turning away to answer a hail.

Toward the edge of the crowd I saw Batman and a group of...affiliates. Nightwing and Red Hood were facing off in a heated debate, observed by Batgirl. Batman was watching too. Red Robin and Damian were facing off too, and as I watched, Red Robin smacked Damian. I turned away hastily.

I heard heels clicking on the floor. "Poppy, wait!" I turned to see Batgirl hustling toward me. "Don't leave me alone with all of them! Sometimes, I swear, there's only one functional brain cell among them. They get so irrational. Let me introduce you to some friends." She steered me over to a knot of superheroines, "Poppy, this is Black Canary, Huntress, and Manhunter." The three women cautiously greeted me, and I had the feeling that I was interrupting something. After a little chatter, I eased away and Batgirl waved at another woman.

"Supergirl, meet Poppy," Batgirl said. The names were getting ridiculous. There is no reason for mature women to be called 'girl.' Supergirl was warm and friendly, though, despite the costume that made her look like a caped cheerleader. Well, at least I didn't have to wear it.

We were interrupted by Stark obnoxiously tapping the mike, and as I sat down, the dogs hustled up, their chat with Thor apparently over. "This thing on?" he asked, knowing full well it was. I rubbed my eye. "All right, everybody, time is fleeting. A lot of you know already that we seem to be in an alien incursion here. We were first alerted to the problem a couple days ago by Poppy, and we began to investigate..." Tony quickly summarized what we knew, using the 3D projector to illustrate, then turned the floor over to Superman.

"We've done some investigating and found that there is a little evidence that Skrulls have been found in Washington, Chicago and LA, nobody's seeing the Kree, and activity on the part of the Skrulls seems to be limited to intelligence gathering. New York is apparently the test case, and it is my personal feeling that any invasion plans are in their infancy. We have met with local and national leadership, first to apprise them of the threat, second to provide our assistance. As we are meeting, so are the police and other law enforcement bodies to explain the situation and go over their action plans. In this city, the plan is to declare martial law for the duration of the situation. Citizens will be restricted to their homes aside from the daylight hours. There will be exceptions made for emergency personnel. The National Guard will have a larger presence. Agencies including the FBI are making finding information on the Kree and Skrulls their first priority, and assets are being shifted here from all over the country." Superman stepped back.

"Our community is being asked to do what we are already doing," Steve said, stepping forward next to Superman. It was kind of comforting to see all that righteousness lined up in front of us. Additionally, Superman was a good reminder that not all aliens are bad and out to subjugate humanity. Sometimes it was easy to forget that. "We will be patrolling the city, helping the idiots who break curfew, assisting the police, collecting information, and doing whatever our special skill might allow us to do to help. Signup sheets are being passed around. If you can help, please indicate how and include contact information." He shot an exasperated look at Tony. "Your contact information will NOT be used to try to trace your identity, if it's secret." Some skeptical murmurs started.

"I'm not even working on that angle," Tony said, rolling his eyes.

"And the information will be closely kept," Steve continued. "We need a daylight presence as well, so if you can help out during the day, please indicate that. We have been asked, for tonight only, to stay off the streets. Temporary guardposts will be established and they need to be constructed in such a way that they won't interfere with daytime traffic. Tonight the city is going to be very active. It is an excellent opportunity for all of us to get some extra sleep and relax. It may be the last time we will be able to do this for awhile. Additionally, the clinic here will be open to all superheroes for the duration, no restrictions. I know that many of you have other options, but you're welcome to get stitched up here as well as get treatment for more serious injuries. This will both free up hospital emergency rooms and allow you to keep your secret identities since you can have your patient records under your code names, no questions asked. Now, the President's address will be starting shortly and you're all invited to stay and watch it here after signing up. Thank you for coming." As he spoke, large TVs were being wheeled in around the lobby.

"What do you think, guys?" I asked the dogs, and Sigurd did the mumbly sounds he makes when he'd like to communicate details but is frustrated by my language gap. "That a yes?" They both barked, and I smiled, scratching behind their ears.

Bucky appeared beside me, holding a clipboard. I took it from him, didn't bother putting down my contact information, and indicated that I would patrol my accustomed neighborhood as well as the one around my home. I figured I could start out in my normal area and work back to my house, maybe starting in the business part of this scheme in the late afternoon, let people see me and the dogs, before moving into the residential neighborhood to catch kids breaking curfew. "That's a good idea," Bucky said, reading over my shoulder. I smiled at him and gave him back the clipboard. I explained my thoughts about how I'd change the timing, and he nodded. "You'll get a little more sleep that way," he said approvingly. I remembered something and dug around in one of my utility pouches, presenting him with a few objects. He looked his question.

"These are the lancets that diabetics use to get blood for their glucose meters," I explained, digging in another pouch. "If you need to prove you're human or test somebody else, you can use these for a quick and easy puncture." I passed him a few small alcohol wipe packets as well. "Wipe first to avoid infection," I warned.

"Always thinking ahead," he said, pocketing them, kissing my hair, and taking his clipboard after the next group of supers. I tracked down Peter first to give him a few, then found Batgirl too.

"So clever, Emma," she said, dropping a few into one of her utility pouches. "Easy to buy, too."

I encountered Wolverine; he looked uneasy. "What's the matter, Logan, scared of a little blood?" Deadpool taunted him. I gave Wade some too since he was there.

"No," Wolverine grunted. "I don't like the sticky thing," he admitted after a moment, his expression daring Wade to make a joke.

"You have retractable claws," he pointed out. "Big, metal retractable claws." "And you're scared of a little poke?" He started to laugh. I retreated as they started to bicker.

The TV screens flickered to life, and the empty Oval Office appeared. Conversation faded away as the President sat down behind the massive desk and began to give prepared remarks. The content of the speech was nothing new to us, but the President's voice was warm and encouraging or steely and resolved as appropriate, very effective. An arm went around me, hand gently rubbing my arm. I leaned against Steve as we listened. After the President's speech was concluded, the cameras cut to analysts in the network newsrooms, and I straightened up.

"I wish we knew more," I said. "I worry about this dragging out too long. I don't want curfews and guardposts to be the new normal. It's not like what we're used to when invasions are imminent, there aren't enemy armies massing, or barreling through Belgium."

"I know. It's troubling," Steve said, sighing. I gave him a couple of the lancets too, and he surprised me with close hug. "This will help keep people calm, having an easy way of proving who's human. We'll have boxes here for the heroes to stock up from and pass along the suggestion to the police, too."

"Can we get an introduction?" a deep voice said over my shoulder, and that is how I met Superman, Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Arrow, and Aquaman. Aquaman? Huh. If you want to see it all, come to New York.

Then I made my way to the doors and slipped outside into the cold night air. The dogs trotted ahead a bit, investigating the streets and new smells.

When we got home, I took advantage of my unexpected night off to bake some cookies. I also made a batch of cookie dough to freeze, so I could slice and bake a few at need. Then I went up to relax in a nice hot bath before going to bed early.

I felt pretty optimistic going out the next morning. While people were worried, they weren't notably freaking out, and I credited the obvious protective presence for that. I was stopped several times by people who recognized my face and wanted reassurance, so I told them that the Kree were impossible to miss and explained my little blood-drawing solution. It seemed to provide a measure of comfort, and I was glad to be helpful. Thinking about it, I stopped in a drugstore on the way myself to buy a box of those tiny square Bandaids as well as to stock up on the lancets and alcohol wipes. I'd given out quite a few at the meeting last night and to the people who had come up to talk to me. The cashier looked curious, so I told her about the use of these things, and as I left, I heard her telling the next customer.

Traffic at the store was lighter today, which was fairly relaxing. Shortly before closing, a delivery of a new safe was made; it was the most high tech, secure safe I could buy. The twins elected to stay and be instructed in how it worked. It had biometric readers as well as a six-digit passcode. I left the other safe, but raw materials in it, and included a small, pretty cat pendant with a note for Catwoman asking her to have fun breaking into this safe and promising the odd, custom made reward if she'd just leave my other safe alone. I figured she'd wrestle with temptation awhile before trying the new one. With the new plan for patrolling, I just couldn't carry my inventory back and forth with me. I went out for an early dinner before returning to the store to assume my costume. The dogs perked up as we headed out. As I planned, seeing a costumed hero on the street on patrol seemed to reassure the citizens, and my dogs provided an extra level of security. Night fell quickly, and the streets emptied. I made a point of stopping at each of the checkpoints and introducing myself. It added some time, but I wasn't punching a clock. I didn't have to go up on the rooftops since I'd been outed, and the dogs couldn't climb up the sides of the buildings or fire escapes, so I went up only occasionally. I went up periodically for a better view and the dogs patrolled below until I came down. We slowly worked our way home. This soon after the initial alert, people were still frightened and staying inside. We'd have trouble later with people sneaking around if we didn't get more information or something happening. We got home around midnight, another pretty early night. We spent some time with the little dogs, and the big dogs allowed the little dogs to sleep on my bed that night.

This pattern repeated for over a week.


	40. Getting to know you

We got into a new schedule. We'd get up, spend some time with the small dogs, go for a walk, then go home and I'd do whatever I needed to around the house, and go to the tower. Then Bucky would work with me with my new pistol, after which we'd get a snack with Steve, and I'd go to work. After work, I got some dinner, and we'd start our patrol.

One morning, I was jogging with the little dogs as they frisked ahead and I ran into Steve, heading out early. He started to laugh. "Emma..." Wallace started to get tired and Torburn gently picked him up by the scruff.

"What? I can't just leave the pups alone all the time." He picked up Daf, who was chugging along gamely.

"For one thing, I'm worried that you're exerting yourself too much. Running in the morning with the dogs, patrolling later. Look. I'll take them into the tower with me, they can be walked, be around people. Bucky and I can bring them back with us."

And so we added a wrinkle for the schedule. Steve and/or Bucky would stop by in the morning and pick up the little dogs, and the big dogs and I would go into the city with them. This was the bright spot of the day, because not much progress was being made. We managed to capture a few Skrulls, but the Kree were out of sight.

Everybody was wound tightly. My idea about the little blood draws was really popular--so popular that people's fingers were covered with bandaids. I had a homemade lancet that I carried in a little vial of alcohol and didn't have to worry about carrying the alcohol wipes. I didn't get a lot of requests for proof of humanity, though. The heroes didn't, in general. But with no new information, people were getting restless and I'd seen a few people breaking the curfew the night before. The Guard had picked up one, lectured the guy sternly, and had the cops take him home. I'd caught a couple of teenagers who were sneaking out to have sex. I'd returned each one to their parents at their homes.

After eight days of this, I was getting a little blase myself. I knew a significant threat was out there, but without seeing any proof, I was settling into a routine. Bucky, Steve and I quickly established that if my lights were on when they got back on the street, they'd return the dogs; otherwise, they spent the night at Bucky's. It had only been a few days, but it was working out pretty well. And we'd decided to identify ourselves with a mention of something that only we would know, since Bucky only had one hand to do the proof of humanity thing with. Most of the population were still too in awe of him to ask, but the other Avengers, particularly Sam and Tony, made up for it to tease him. Always in public, so he couldn't refuse.

I had just gotten home when a knock on the door announced Bucky. The little dogs scampered in and ran to find the big dogs, who were having a snack in the kitchen. He mentioned a thing I'd said when I was helping Samuel to update his arm, and I replied with something he'd said in return. He came in and we followed the dogs to the kitchen to start some decaf. We were chatting about our nights when there was another knock.

"Must be Steve," I said, and left Bucky to supervise the French press while I answered the door. "The Star Spangled Man with a Plan," I said, quoting the song he'd heard ad nauseum when promoting war bond sales before he became a battlefield hero. Usually he rolled his eyes when somebody teased him with that, but tonight he just leaned in for a kiss. And not the usual kiss on the cheek; this was a sort of an I'm-a-half-inch-from-taking-you-hard-on-the-floor kind of plunder of my mouth. Bucky yelled a hello from the kitchen.

"So is this a night for a threesome?" Steve said, reaching for my breast. Which is when I clocked him with the collapsed staff from my utility belt.

"What the hell?" Bucky said, charging in.

"This isn't Steve," I said grimly, and startled, Bucky held off the questions until we had the individual restrained to a kitchen chair. Then I explained what 'Steve' had said. Bucky actually blushed. We leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping our coffee and waiting for the imposter to wake up. "That's another thing," I said suddenly. "Look at his fingers."

"Ah," Bucky said. "No Bandaids. But not many people have been asking. They trust him." We exchanged a significant glance. There was another knock on the door. "I'll take this one," he said, and pushed off, leaving his coffee cup on the counter. I heard a little yelp as the masculine voices talked and smiled. Steve didn't like needles, not after his sickly childhood.

But this Steve was all business when he came into the kitchen and took his coffee from me. It was cold outside. "Tell me everything that happened," he requested, so I took them step by step through the encounter. He also blushed. Bucky blushed again. They were cute. We lined up against the counter again, watching the prisoner. Bucky finished his coffee and started another pot. "What were you thinking of doing?" Steve asked me.

"Wait til he wakes up, see if the truth perfume works on Skrulls, alert the authorities to come get him."

He sent a little grin my way. "That sounds like a plan to me." Bucky approved. The dogs returned from a romp in the yard, and the little dogs trotted in to Loki's room, where they spent their nights curled up on his bed. The big dogs immediately reacted; a ridge of fur rose on their backs, and they started snarling as they slowly approached the guy tied to the chair.

"Looks like they can detect the difference," Bucky said.

"Need a bigger sample size. preferably the imposter and the real person together, not tied to the chair," I said absently as I watched. It wouldn't do for the dogs to rip the alien apart before we had a chance to question him/her/it. Plus I didn't want to spend a lot of time cleaning. The boys smiled. Bucky got tired of waiting, walking carefully between the dogs to slap the alien. After the second slap, the alien's eyes opened. He looked around the room, flinching slightly as he saw Steve.

Without comment, I stepped up and waved the vial of perfume under the alien's nose. When his eyes went vacant, I wondered if I'd given him too much. Without warning, the alien's form slid creepily from Steve's to a green reptiloid. Then other aspects of the creature kept shifting, presumably to features of other species that it had imitated. In the humanoid forms, it appeared to shift sexes as well. It was impossible to look away, but it it was disturbing to watch. Finally, the alien's form seemed to stabilize in its natural configuration and he (it was definitely a he at this point) sighed.

I took the lead in the interrogation, mostly because Steve and Bucky were kind of squicked out from what we'd seen. The Skrulls weren't ready to move just yet and had had to advance their timetable with the revelation that we knew they and the Kree were here. They needed information, which was quickly a lot harder to get once we thought of checking blood color. They had thought to use the relationships between Steve and Bucky and me to find out what we knew. "But your relationship is apparently not what we believed it to be," the Skrull said, looking between us speculatively. The Skrull didn't know much about their invasion plans aside from the main fact that they were waiting for more ships to show up. They were lurking on the far side of the moon, waiting. He said that the Kree had cloaking technology and could be anywhere. He said that the Skrull's past practice was to infiltrate, get information on how best to conquer a planet, then swoop down and overwhelm the population. His superior felt that by exploiting schisms that currently existed all over the globe that not as many troops would be needed.

"Like what?" asked Bucky.

"Oh, your societies are rife with stressors. Class, wealth, color, religion, national origin, sexual orientation. The resentment of weak countries for those with strong arsenals that impose themselves and their agendas. A few carefully orchestrated incidents, and you'll be so busy fighting yourselves that we won't have much to do." His eyes gleamed with satisfaction and malice.

"If you conquer us, what then?" Steve asked.

"Your planet will be used to support the Empire," the Skrull said. "The young and the strong will be placed in military service as we expand; the rest of you will live your lives, producing what is needed for our expansion and maintenance." He sneered. "The Kree will do the same, but you'll feel the conquerer's lash far harder."

None of us had anything else to ask. "What is that...substance you poisoned me with?" The Skrull asked.

"It compels the truth," I said. The alien shuddered. "It does kind of worry me that this will get out," I said to my fellow humans. "There's a lot of potential for misuse. I think sometimes that I misuse it, and that's on a small scale."

Steve nodded. "But do you have the right to withhold it? It's extremely effective with these aliens."

"I would rather be beaten. Tormented by torture, rather than face that again," the alien said passionately. The four of us looked at each other.

"I won't mention it if you don't," the alien said. "You can get most of us to comply with cruder measures."

Steve looked torn. "If it's used as a last resort?" I proposed, and the alien nodded. I looked at the boys, and they nodded as well. To cover up, Steve hit him a few times to leave bruises. It wasn't pleasant for any of us.

The FBI arrived to take charge of our prisoner, and Bucky, who had recorded the interrogation to the point just prior to when the alien had asked about the perfume, provided the recording. We were each questioned efficiently about the incident; they asked me how I knew it wasn't actually Steve, which I disclosed, described hitting the alien, Bucky and I tying up the alien, Steve's arrival, the dogs' reaction, that we interrogated the alien. The agent finally nodded, gave me his card, and said they'd be in touch. No mention was made of me signing my statement, and I deduced that they were taking the line that aliens had no civil liberties. That made me feel better about keeping silent about the perfume.

After the feds left, I walked Bucky and Steve to the door. "Tony knows about the perfume, like some of the other Avengers. I don't trust him to keep his mouth shut."

Steve exhaled. "I'll talk to him." That was the most that could be reasonably be hoped for, and both of them went back to Bucky's. I locked up, and the big dogs and I went upstairs.

Another week passed. Bucky told me one night that the Avengers had been asked to send one of the quinjets up to the space station to remove an alien who was impersonating one of the Russian astronauts. The stress was getting to everybody; there were allegations of price fixing of gasoline and electricity costs went up as well as food prices. The restriction of business to daylight hours was having a significant economic effect on businesses, which in turn affected the employees. People were still pretty good one-on-one; citizens I passed on the street were worried and confused that more information wasn't being given, but they seemed to be somewhat reassured when I told them that I wasn't being given information either. And for the few who were not so civil...well, the dogs kept things under control. The big dogs were helpful in another way, though. Kids absolutely loved them and they were good with the kids. The parents relaxed a little to see their kids happy. They helped me keep my image that I was approachable. I made friends with most of the guards and the cops I encountered on my route. At night, I still had to do the jabby thing, but I never protested. The reporters who wanted to be out on the streets had to be embedded with specific guardposts, and since there wasn't much action, they took scrupulous notes of everything they did see.

I encountered Batman on my lookout perch again and realized that Batgirl was right; putting on the suit made him horny. Maybe it was the danger inherent with the job, maybe it was the freedom from being 'Bruce Wayne', maybe it just the closely fitting tac fabrics. When I encountered Bruce Wayne, I never got any kind of sexual interest from him, but Batman was a different story. He took the rejection well, though. Of course, I had to tell him that the youngest in the Bat family were enough to send anybody screaming and that I wasn't going to challenge Selena's claim on him. After Batman left, disgruntled, Hawkeye jumped down off the stairwell roof. I hadn't even seen him there. He laughed at me so I left in a bit of a huff.

It was three weeks before Selina came back to burgle my safe again. She took the pendant, drew a little heart on the note, and I started to work on the next piece. My new safe was untouched.

It didn't happen until the fourth week.


	41. The battle

The attack, when it finally came, opened in Washington DC. Amazingly, both houses of Congress were actually in session and in their chambers; one body was voting on the budget, the other was wasting time on a resolution chastizing supers for.... something or other. Probably for the overuse of spandex, soon to be followed by legislation that regulates how form-fitting the costumes can be and how much skin is to be allowed. The politicians usually try to cover their sorry, rotting asses by blaming us for their shortcomings. Because of the political infighting that kept almost everything from working, the Supreme Court was down to six justices, a budget agreement was nowhere in sight, and the military budget was funneled into new weapons rather than providing veterans' care. I didn't shed a tear when nine tenths of Congress were killed by the aliens. It turned out that a small group of them were off site, working in secret from their parties on a new budget, and they were all that was left besides some bottom feeders who hadn't bothered to attend the proceedings. I had some hope that maybe the political landscape would change now that it was literally littered with body parts and what was left of Congress could, demonstrably, work together. As I listened to the radio, I shrugged and pulled a cake out of the oven.

"Aren't you upset?" Steve asked. He was.

"I'm sorry that the aliens blew up the building," I said as I turned off the oven. "It's irreplaceable." Bucky started to laugh while Steve looked aghast. "Too bad they didn't get the lobbyists, too." Bucky choked on his milk. I shook my head and patted Steve on the shoulder. "Look. All my life I've lived with politicians doing awful things and showing their corruption. It's so far from the ideal found in the Constitution that it's incredible. Maybe it always was this bad but it just wasn't public knowledge. You missed the Bay of Pigs, Watergate, Iran-Contra, all sorts of crap. The lobbyists have just gotten more powerful and influential, and most members of Congress are more than happy to take their money, retain their cushy jobs where they can vote themselves pay raises and better benefits and retirement plans, and the people they are SUPPOSED to be representing just have to bend over and take what's left. There a few decent people, but most of them are not. I'm not crying because they finally got what was coming to them." Yep, I've got a lot of rage built up.

Because of the government's hostility toward supers, there weren't any big-league supers based there. There were a few street-level heroes, but they worked in very limited fashion and not in DC proper. Knowing that there wasn't a lot of time left, I carefully turned the cake out of the pan and got some plates and the bread knife. I sliced delicately into the hot cake and gave forks and plates to each of us. "I can't believe we overlooked Thanksgiving," Steve said. It had passed the week before, and this was my version of a make up.

"This is good," Bucky said. "I like marble cake."

"As long as it doesn't resemble actual marble, right?" I asked, and the boys smiled. We ate quickly. I went upstairs to suit up and met them back downstairs. We took my car in, not wasting time with public transport the way we usually did. Steve used his pass to get access to the parking garage under the tower and we went upstairs to the lobby. The superhero community was gathering in the lobby again, accompanied by National Guard commanders, the chief of police, the mayor, the head of the local FBI branch, and others I didn't know. The boys went upstairs to assume their costumes, and I mingled with the other supers.

"Hey, babe," a voice said from behind me, and I felt a hand on my hip. I turned around...and looked down. Damn.

"D-- er, Robin," I said, and stepped away from his hand. Another of the Robins hustled up and pushed Damian's hand down.

"Dude," he hissed. "That is skeevy. Show some respect for her. She could probably break you in half and her dogs would eat the leftovers. And then her ex would come along and...do something horrible."

"Steve won't hurt a child," I said, amused. "But he will sit you down and lecture you on respect. And his lectures can be excruciating. I advocate manners and thus side-stepping the whole procedure." Damian started to whine.

"I'm sorry about this," Red Robin said to me. "He's housebroken, but I try not to take him out in public much." I smiled at him and started to move away. I narrowly avoided crashing into Batman. He was looking slitty-eyed at his progeny.

I patted his arm. "I advise some parenting classes," I muttered, and then saw Peter. I grinned and waved, and made my way through the crowd. He was moving a little stiffly, and I got him to tell me that he'd had a fight with a Skrull the night before. And before I could say anything, he said that he was going up to the clinic after the meeting.

I nodded. "Get to feeling as best as you can before the real fighting starts," I urged him. I felt a tap on my shoulder, and after Pete gave me a hug, I turned to see Wonder Woman. She's even more impressive close up. And gorgeous, of course, but I suppose that's par for the course with being an immortal. I wasn't as impressed by that as I would have been once. Hanging around with Thor gave me a more nuanced opinion of gods. It turned out that she just wanted to chat with another woman who'd been associated with a bunch of marquee superheroes. She hadn't bonded with Black Widow. Not at all surprised to hear that.

"How did you deal with Stark?" she asked, shuddering. "He's so... so...."

"I'd like to give him a good spanking, but I'm afraid he'd just like it," I said tartly. "Tony's very gifted, but his virtues--and he has some--don't always balance his hubris or his poor decisions."

"He reminds me greatly of Br--Batman," she said.

"Except that Tony has a sense of humor."

The corners of her mouth twitched up. "And is that truly a saving grace?"

"Yes. He'd probably be dead by now without it. I'd like to see Batman and Tony in a competition to see who can come up with the best gadgets," I said wistfully. Wonder Woman looked at me inquisitively. "Can't you see it?" I asked. "These two billionaires, both accustomed to their genius and being the smartest guy in the room, in a face off like Iron Chef or something? Tony, snapping out one-liners as he gets smacked into a wall by his invention, Batman all grim and tacturn, laboring in the shadows, trying to engineer as Robin comes in and brats it up..."

Wonder Woman laughed in delight, then she looked at me speculatively. "Are you aware of his secret identity?" she said softly after checking to see if anyone was listening. I nodded, and she examined me. It wasn't a very comfortable sensation. Then Wonder Woman saw Deadpool and made her excuses. I went over to say hi; he was bantering with Wolverine while a small cluster of the X-Men looked on. I nodded at Forge and Colossus and stood by Nightcrawler, who looked a little uneasy at the attention, but after chatting for a bit, he loosened up and was very charming. 

We were called to attention, and turned to see Superman and Steve, all suited up, on the dais with civilian authorities. We took our seats and quieted. The mayor stepped up and quickly recapped what had happened in DC. The President , the remaining members of Congress, and the Supreme Court justices had been removed and placed somewhere else. Emergency crews were descending on DC for rescue and protection.

Then Superman stepped forward. "The ships match the description of the Kree ships. NASA has reported movement around the moon and we believe that the Skrull ships are on their way. I went up immediately to see, and there are more Kree ships on the way. I'll be going up again after the meeting. This is what we need from you. For those of you who are based here, go out to your usual neighborhoods and patrol. Everyone will be issued an earbug that will allow you to immediately communicate with all of us if you see aliens. The governor is calling for an evacuation of the city. Do what you can to assist the police and the public, but remember the primary mission is the Skrulls and the Kree. Watch for them and sound the alarm as soon as you see anything. If the crowds are too heavy, go up on rooftops and monitor from there. Those of you who don't have this city as a home base, please familiarize yourselves with the street grid. Once the home base heroes are in place, we'll have you running munitions or other weapons out there, meals, water. Then you'll trade off, allowing the home basers to get a little rest, then they'll relieve you. That's until the Skrulls and Kree show themselves, then we will all be joining the fight. You'll receive updates as soon as we get them, so under no circumstances remove or turn off your earbugs."

Steve stepped up. "Avenger Tower will be our home base. If you get too injured to fight, call for help and we will try to evacuate you to the clinic here. Be aware that this might not be a possibility. It's to your advantage to go up to the clinic and get a first aid kit before you leave. If you need supplies, this is where you get them. Once the away heroes are assigned and get to their new territories, work supply runs and everything else out with your partners."

He gave way to the chief of police, who advised us that the police would be guarding against looting and helping to make the evacuation safe and efficient. The National Guard was at work erecting point defenses around the bridges, hospitals, and other key buildings, and anti-aircraft weapons were being brought in. Because the alien aircraft were thought to be more nimble than even our fighter jets and because we'd be fighting in the city, it was not clear what other weapons would be used. It would be the job of the military to engage the aircraft; the police would join us in fighting individual aliens.

When the briefing was over, I ran downstairs to the shooting range, where I kept fifty spare magazines and extra hollow point ammunition. I grabbed the backpack out of the locker and headed upstairs for a first aid kit. It was more substantial than I expected, which was all to the good. There was less chance that I would need it, but it could help my partner, a police officer, or a guard. I hit the bathroom, then got sandwiches and bottles of water in the cafeteria. Then I doubled back to supply to get a pair of binoculars, and I headed back out.

The streets were crowded with people but the police had it well in hand. I went through the street-level doors to my usual perch with the dogs so that I could get up on my favorite roof to begin surveillance. There was a cutting wind, but the edge of the roof was high enough to give the dogs some protection. I fixed the door so that the dogs could go in and out if they needed to, and started to walk the perimeter of the roof. It was a big building, so there was lots to cover. We knew that the Kree had stealth technology, so I periodically looked up to check for heat signatures. I hate horror movies because nobody ever bothers to look up. Up is the best place for bad guys to lurk. Down on the streets, the police were doing a great job getting people to pick up points where buses were taking people out of the five boroughs. Some streets were blocked off solely for pedestrians, others only for cars and other transportation. People were being moved along quickly. 

As the afternoon wore on, the streets went from packed to congested to thinning, to mostly empty as the dusk approached. Police swept the streets for stragglers and drove them to the bus pickup points. Evacuation had been mandated, but there would be those who stayed regardless of the risk; maybe because they were afraid to leave, possibly because they planned to steal from their fellow citizens. An X-man I didn't know dropped off a cooler with more food and bottled water. When I finished a circuit on the roof, I returned to find Flash petting the dogs. After I pointed out landmarks, we chatted for a bit, and I took a nap. The sun was warm, I had a thin blanket that I'd gotten at the tower, and the dogs cuddled up. I woke when night was fully on us. It was cloudy, which didn't help matters, and as I sat up, snow began to sift down. Flash took a break, and we had sandwiches while we talked about our powers and how we got them. It was kind of nice to find another victim of a chemical accident. He had super speed, regeneration, and was immune to telepathic attack or control. We cut off our 'getting-to-know-you' moment when the news came through that the aliens were heading up the coast. They weren't stopping at other cities; it looked like they were coming for us. Flash and I exchanged grim looks and got up. "I'll go down to the street, I'll be more useful down there," he said, and trotted off, saving his super speed for when he needed it. Like others with enhanced abilities, his metabolism was ferocious, and I made him take most of the food with him so he could keep up his strength. The streets were mostly empty; I could see only guard outposts and patrolling police.

It was just past midnight with the Kree got to us. They came from the ocean to slow over Manhattan, so by the time I could see their heat signatures, we had plenty of warning they were coming. What turned out to be troop carriers set down anywhere there was enough space: on rooftops, intersections, in parks and plazas. The dogs made a triangle with me and alerted me whenever they saw the Kree. I ran from side to side, grateful I'd been taking lessons from Bucky. I went through ammunition at a frightening rate. The anti-aircraft guns seemed to be the only things that worked against the troop carriers and their analog of fighter jets; they could evade surface to air missiles easily. The noise was nightmarish, and that was before the Skrulls showed up. They depended on small, light craft that fired enormous rounds. Buildings started to crumble. Then the Skrull troops began to show up, but it was easy to tell that they weren't human because of their weapons and the care they were taking to imprison any humans they encountered. It wasn't long before I had to stop and reload my magazines. I saw Flash go down as a Kree got lucky and hit him. The Kree hadn't even been aiming for him; it was just an accident. I called immediately for an evac and distracted the Kree by firing at him. I got lucky too, taking out the Kree, but it took almost a full magazine. I looked up and saw Jim; I pointed down and Jim saw Flash, swooping down, putting him into some kind of harness, then arrowing off toward the tower.

I felt very alone after that. There were still National Guard units who were firing, and the police were using firearms, tazers, and their vehicles to ram aliens wherever they could.  
There was a lull in my sector, and I took advantage to look around. The weird hisses of energy weapons, the crack of handguns, the chatter of larger armaments provided a devilish soundtrack. Fires lit the sky as buildings burned. Our fighter jets engaged the enemy craft above, raining debris down on the streets below, a new hazard. I called for more ammunition. Tony dropped off a backpack, but neither of us had time to chat. Acrid smoke caught in the wind, combining occasionally with the smell of burning meat. I didn't want to think about that, or the screaming I heard. It was worse when it cut off abruptly. The snow intensified, making it more difficult to see. The dogs were engaging aliens who made it to the roof on their own. Every now and then I rolled the bodies of the Skrulls they took down off the roof. The Kree were too heavy to move, and they presented another obstacle as I defended my area.

Around four thirty, Steve's voice came on for the first time. "Fall back," he barked. We were to mount a defense at the tower. I narrowed my eyes as the wind whipped around me. We were losing.

I took the time to load up as many magazines as I had ammunition for, then explained to the dogs what we had to do. We ran down the stairs and out of the building. We had limited ammunition, so we tried to be stealthy and avoided engaging the enemy as much as possible. I was still down to two magazines when we made it to the tower. My wrists were killing me from firing the Glock so much. Hawkeye sent me inside to get more bullets, and I saw Bucky in the armory. He quickly checked my Glock, then issued me one from the armory. I'd been firing mine too much. Sam made me go to the caf for a quick meal, then it was back outside. It was astonishing to see so many heroes all in one place, all using their gifts and skills to the best of their abilities. Batman sent me to a barricade that was weak, but first asked me how it had been on my patch.

"About a quarter as attractive as Hell with the lights out," I tried to quip, then ran for my place. He'd almost smiled. I stopped dead as I saw Peter overhead. His webbing wasn't working, and he was falling. He hit the ground hard. Before I could get close, professionals from the clinic were with him, quickly and competently getting him onto a stretcher, then running for the doors. Somebody grabbed my shoulder and pun me around.

"You can't do anything for him right now." Black Widow said hoarsely, and shoved me along. She was right. I shoved them memory down and ran.

I was relieved to see Thor at my assignment. With Mjolnir, he could take out the Kree. As the dogs reached him, he looked around and smiled grimly. We got to work. Periodically, we were visited by young heroes with water or ammunition. Damian was there once, and for the first time I felt sorry for him. He looked completely freaked out, and there were smears of blood and ash on his suit. I couldn't think of anything to say that would be both truthful and comforting, settling for "You're doing a good job, Damian. Keep it up." He just looked at me, sniffed, and nodded before moving along down the line.

I was completely taken aback when I saw some faces I thought I'd never see again. "Starlord!" I yelled, my voice raspy. He looked around, and I could see Gamora, Drax, Rocket, and a Groot that was slightly taller than Rocket jogging toward me. I always liked to call him by his preferred alias as it seemed to mean something to him. Beyond his ego, I mean. We did those handshakes with a half hug guys seem to like, then sent them all to the command post for assignments. I keyed on my com. "Bucky, Rocket's here. He'll claim he needs your arm if he sees it. He just wants it, don't give it to him." I heard Steve laugh, then I concentrated on the incoming again.

A Kree ship started a strafing run. We all ran; the projectiles were so big I knew even my skin wouldn't be able to stop them. I saw Scott go into Giant Man mode, but the ship evaded him. I shoved Hawkeye out of the way of the projectiles.

Then I was knocked off my feet as one of the projectiles hit me just below my left ribs. The impact drove the breath out of me and the pain was excruciating and consuming. The last thing I saw before my head bounced off the concrete was a column of Bifrost light slamming into the plaza and men in gold armor rushing toward us.


	42. Waking up

I woke up some time later and it took me a little time to figure out why I felt like the karma from many lives' worth of misdeeds had backhanded me. My head hurt So Much. I didn't want to even touch my middle; it all hurt. My left hand was sort of crampy, but I couldn't completely straighten or bend my right hand, my wrist was in a brace, and my forearm hurt. My shoulders hurt. My whole right side felt bruised and my knees and feet hurt. Then I started take in the externals. The lights in the small room were low. There were softly beeping monitors. No one else was in the room. I smelled smoke, and I was warm.

Memories started to filter through my brain. Alien invasion. It was snowing, and there was ash in the air too. Right. There had been fires in the city once the aliens had engaged the weapons on their ships. I'd been shooting. That explained my hands, wrists, forearm and shoulders. Pulling the trigger, gripping the gun, managing the recoil and aiming. I remembered being hit with a projectile from a strafing run, that must be why my middle hurt so very much. And when I'd been hit, I'd been driven back, landing hard on my side and cracking my head. I probably had a concussion, which might account for the nausea I felt, but why I felt like ants were quietly and securely burrowed into my skin was a mystery. 

And I had to pee in the worst way. I sat up cautiously and it didn't feel any worse, so I put down the safety railing on the bed and swung my feet out. Out from under the sheets, I saw dirt, ash, and blood on my skin and immediately wanted a shower. The smell of smoke was strong, and there was more than a hint of BO. A shower was definitely in order. I checked the dressing on my abdomen; it was huge. I'd need to cover it. I saw a trash bag lining a small trash can by the bed. I rummaged through the drawers of the bedside table, then found a half-used roll of duct tape under the visitors chair. I couldn't bend over to save my life, so I drew It out with my foot, sat on the chair gingerly, grabbed it with my toes, and brought it up enough to grab it. Ripping strips off was also difficult without two functional hands, but I managed enough to plaster the bag to my midsection, with a little left over to cover the IV in my hand. I shuffled into the bathroom, peed fast, then stepped into the shower, where I leaned against the tile for support and got as clean as I could. I rinsed until the water finally ran clear, then dried off perfunctorily and put my hospital gown inside out, so I had something clean against my skin. I shuffled back out to the chair, where I worked the duct tape off as carefully as I could. A nurse came in while I was peeling the tape off my middle, yelled at me at length for getting up without help and showering without permission, then got a bottle of lotion to help get the tape off without ripping off a layer of skin. My skin was red underneath but fundamentally sound, and my idea had worked; no water had gotten under the plastic.

The nurse looked at the sheets, which were filthy, especially the pillows. She sighed, then left and came back with clean sheets and a clean gown. I apologized, which seemed to mollify her some, and she helped me back into bed. I felt much better being clean, and she recognized the psychological effect of cleanliness. She took my vitals efficiently, helped to dry my hair some more, then left again, returning with a doctor. He had the nicest baritone I'd ever heard, rich and with enough gravel to make it interesting. We had a chat, during which he explained I had the expected concussion and said that I might be getting arthritis in my knees. One of the projectiles from the alien ships had ricocheted off the ground before hitting me, which was good news because if it had hit me without slowing, I wouldn't be here. As it was, the projectile had penetrated over two inches. I'd needed minor surgery, and they were keeping the wound open to combat infection which had popped up. I'd been out for three days. While we were speaking, the doctor deftly peeled back the dressing to check. I was aghast; the wound was almost four inches across. The doctor checked very carefully, flushed it with sterile saline, and was happy with the results. The nurse brought a suture kit with the needles I'd made, and after numbing the area, started stitching the wound. Even with the local, it hurt.

"Now that the wound is closed, we can start using the tissue accelerator on it," the doctor said, pleased. "In regard to your concussion, we've been treating you with a new medication. Wayne Enterprises has been developing it for the NFL's concussion problem, and it's being used in clinical trials. They sent over quite a lot of medication and supplies to help us treat our patients, and this medication was among it. Their doctors explained its use and potential side effects, and we felt you were a good candidate. It should be actually healing the brain tissue; it stimulates parts of the brain as it goes, which might explain the sensation of ants that you reported. Once we're done talking, we'll get some new scans so we can track how you're healing."

"Is it affecting that denser tissue in my brain?" I wanted to know.

The doctor shook his head. "No, that appears to be stable, at least as far as this medication is concerned. We do have healing factor to give you as well, so we'll check if that has an effect too. Now this healing factor is something I'm very interested in. We isolated it from the blood serum of heroes who have accelerated healing capabilities. It won't give you that ability, but it will stay active in your tissues long enough to help."

The nurse brought me a wheelchair and took me to be scanned. When we came back to my room, I was really tired and got back in the bed without a fuss. I took a nap, but the dreams were full of horrors. I was grateful to wake up. A nurse was in the room, noting things on my chart. The doctor stepped in long enough to tell me that the scans were showing that my brain was healing nicely. The ants had gone away, but the medication was apparently stimulating a different part of my brain. I had an orgasm triggered by the sound of the doctor's voice. So embarrassing, but he pointed out that it likely represented progress. Mercifully, he shut up then and went away. Then I remembered. I shot upright as the nurse was adding the healing factor to my IV. She remonstrated with me, but I had to know how Peter was. And Flash. Were any of the rest of my friends here?

The nurse checked to keep me calm. Peter had a healing ability of his own, which is what likely what saved his life. He'd been discharged this morning, having suffered a broken back as his major injury. He'd also had a concussion, but they'd learned, with supers with healing abilities, to step back and let the supers heal themselves. They'd monitored him and supported his recovery as much as they could, but there wasn't anything they could do that his body couldn't do faster. Thor had my dogs. Flash had recovered in a few hours and was fine. Hawkeye hadn't even been hurt when I pushed him out of the way. Bucky, though...Somehow, Bucky's mechanical arm had been mangled and the attachments in his shoulder had been damaged. He'd had to have a surgery immediately at the shoulder, and they'd had to consult with the Wakandan doctors, which had been difficult since they were under attack as well. But they'd had their consult early this morning, and a second surgery had been performed. As soon as they could, a doctor would be coming out to change out the connectors with the next gen tech they'd been working on. He'd need a new arm. I'd need to talk to Samuel. "Where is he?" I asked.

The nurse smiled. "He's just down the hall. Now, go back to sleep; we'll be by in a couple of hours with your dinner."

I tried to go back to sleep, but I kept seeing the snow and ash swirling together in the wind like they were dancing, transformers sparking as they failed. Red blood. Purplish blood. Green blood. The smell of gunpowder. The many different sounds of weapons fire. I opened my eyes and eased out of bed, grasping the IV pole, and shuffled out the door. I was toward the end of the hall, so I started down the longer way, checking the names in the holders outside the doors. Finally, after several miles, I found the card that said "Barnes." I listened, but there weren't any voices. I eased the door open. Bucky was asleep, but it didn't look to be a peaceful sleep. As I plodded in, I saw Tony asleep in his suit, leaning against the wall. I looked; he'd locked the joints into place. Somebody had been sitting in the chair; it retained faint traces of heat. I carefully let down the safety rail and eased onto the bed. I was worn out and fell asleep almost as soon as I settled in next to Bucky. As I faded out, It felt like a blanket was covering my feet.

"MS HARRINGTON!" I woke up to the nurse's bellow. My head had been on Bucky's good shoulder and his head had rested on mine. My eyes popped open and the nurse yelled at me for leaving my room without authorization, without help, and for staying with another patient. Bucky had woken up during the tirade, but he sensibly didn't say anything. A snort from the visitor's chair alerted me to Steve's presence. When the nurse asked what I had to say for myself, I apologized for causing trouble. "I slept better," I said in a small voice. She looked at me through narrow eyes and exited.

"I'll make you a new arm," I promised Bucky, who managed a small smile. When the nurse returned with a wheelchair, Steve scooped me up and placed me on it gently. He must have been responsible for the blanket. I was wheeled directly to the scanners, then back to my room. The doctor came in, scolded me, reported a big improvement, and left. I had a visitor a little later: Peter, looking wonderful. "Mom," he said in a little-boy voice, and hugged me tightly. I didn't complain. After he let go, I wiped my face and put my hand on his cheek.

"I was so worried," I said. "I saw you fall. And then I couldn't remember for a little bit. I was so grateful to hear you were ok."

He rubbed his eyes and sat on the edge of my bed. "I saw when they brought you into the ER. I thought... there was a lot of blood." I put my hand out and he took it, squeezing it firmly. 

"But we're going to be ok." I said reassuringly. "I'm going to be just fine, honey. Although there's apparently a little arthritis in my knees, damn it." He laughed, shakily. "Have you been able to contact May?" I asked, and he nodded. She'd been evacuated all right, and he'd said enough to make her think that they were in separate evacuation locations, but she was ok. "I'm glad she's fine," I said, and he started to cry. I tugged on his hand and soon he was crying on my shoulder. I stroked his hair and let him get it all out. He was still a kid, and it had been a very bad experience. "Where are you staying?" I asked, and it turned out that he had been staying upstairs, but he didn't like it. It was sterile and the rest of the Avengers were out, mopping up, helping rescue efforts. He'd been cleared to help and was, but he stayed out too late to avoid the tower. There had been some damage to the apartment building where he and May lived, and inspectors hadn't gotten to it yet. Until it was cleared, even Spiderman wasn't allowed in again.

"Honey, if you want, you can go stay at my house," I offered. "It's at least not sterile." 

"Really?" he perked up a little.

"Of course, honey. You're always welcome." I told him where the spare key was hidden and what the security code was, and he left, looking both more cheerful and more tired. I suspected he'd been running on adrenaline. Then I took a nap, and was awakened for lunch. The dreams had come back during the nap, and I was grateful even for hospital food as a respite. My late afternoon scan was taken, and the doctor was frowning when he came back. The progress had slowed down, and I drooped a little. On the bright side, the healing factors and the tissue accelerator were really making a difference. They'd also used it on my right arm and both shoulders, and both felt vastly better.

The terrible dinner was brought, and I ate it anyway. I wanted to get out of here. Around eight, a nurse came in with a wheelchair. "Calm and quiet doesn't seem to be as beneficial for you as it normally is for patients," she said lightly, and wheeled me down the hall to a different room. A two-person room, as it turned out. Bucky was already installed in the other bed, and he brightened to see me. Once I was settled, we traded stories of our adventures. He'd seen me go down, and I was sorry he had. He was rather vague about how his arm was ruined, saying it was from fighting a Kree. I let it go, for now.

"What's the situation now?" I said, a little drowsily.

"For now, both the Kree and Skrulls have retreated," Steve said from the door. He drew the chair between our beds and settled into it. "We were losing until Odin led forces from several of the other realms through the Bifrost." He shook his head and leaned back in the chair. "It included air support. So we've got a reprieve." I nodded. They'd be back. They knew how we fought now and had an idea of who our allies were. We'd need a lot of new tech to spot them, alert civilian populations, and set up better, less wasteful defenses.

"Kind of like the Maginot line," I said sleepily. "Built because their manpower had been severely depleted after WWI. They tried to substitute tech for men. We've just got to make sure they don't roll through Belgium, if we can identify where Belgium is."

"That's right," Steve said softly. "Now, both of you, get some sleep." Bucky was already asleep. It didn't take long for me to sleep, either.

I woke up in the early hours, needing the bathroom. I tiptoed in and out, then draped a blanket over Steve. He looked cold. I gently pulled Bucky's blanket higher and tucked him in. He murmured something, and I went back to my bed. I couldn't remember my dreams.


	43. The next battle approaches

When I woke up the next morning, I was surprised to find myself alone in the room. The nurse at least told me where Bucky was: Samuel had sent over new and upgraded components to interface with his organic parts and the yet-to-be built metal arm. These needed to be grafted on, a new collar implanted, and all of this had to be well healed before we could even think about attaching a new arm, so I had time for fabrication. Samuel sent along a packet for me too; a presentation for a 3D projector that had details about the new neural net that he was working on. There were components inside as well as outside. It was going to be a real feat of engineering.

I had a visitor after my morning scan; Forge wanted to see me. It wasn't exactly a hardship to talk to him; he was so smart and creative and easy on the eyes--he was Cheyenne and rather desperately handsome. He was a little bit abrupt, but I thought that this was because he spent so much time inside his head. He carried a lump of metal, flattened into planes here and there, twisted in others, crushed and completely messed up. I couldn't begin to discern its function. I looked up at Forge in puzzlement.

"This was Barnes' arm," he told me.

I huffed out a breath; when Bucky said it had been damaged, I knew he'd been hiding something from me, but I could not begin to contemplate how this much damage had been incurred. No wonder his shoulder had been so messed up. I cradled the arm to me and looked up at Forge.

"Do you know what happened? I didn't think this level of damage was even possible. There's a hefty chunk of vibranium in the alloy."

"Is there?" he asked, sitting in Steve's chair. "I wondered, it's so durable. Everybody in the vicinity saw you go down in the strafing run, then the pilot banked and came around, lower than before, which was his undoing. Barnes jumped onto the wing and started smashing the cockpit area to get inside. He literally ripped through the metal and whatever they use for glass; it's a lot tougher than anything we have."

"Do you have a sample?" I asked, diverted.

He dug in his pocket and handed me a sample. Thinner than I would have expected, it didn't fracture like glass, even shatter-resistant glass. Or plastic, come to think of it. I looked inside and listed out the elements I saw, most prevalent to least. Then we had a chat about my abilities. Forge was interested in Bucky's arm and seemed disappointed that I only made it, but I gave him Samuel's contact information. He had two cybernetic limbs of his own and had some great ideas. I got excited to hear what he was interested in doing, and we had a conference call from the hospital room. Samuel wanted to come over immediately to work with Forge, and after the call ended, Forge left to set it up. I spent some time until the nurse and doctor came by trying to figure out what had been done to the arm. I thought that the twisting came first, then a tear in the wrist, then something crushed a couple of areas, and the flat planes had been produced, I thought, by somebody in a temper who was using it as a club by that time. The inside showed plainly that nothing could be working in it. Attachments had been torn free, all the cables and sensors had snapped, and it looked like a few of the fingers were missing. I set it aside when the doctor came in with the cheery that it looked like this would be my last dose of the concussion medicine. Thank heaven. I'd been through not only the ant scenario and the unfortunate orgasm trigger, but also a point where everything had smelled like cheese, where my hearing had become overly acute, everybody's faces had looked like gerbils, my coordination and motor control had gone haywire, it had sounded like everyone had a Swedish accent, and it had been difficult to read. Then everything had tasted like cake batter, which, given the clinic food, wasn't terrible.

I stayed awake through the bland and uninspiring lunch, then took a nap, waking in mid-afternoon when Bucky was brought back from his surgery. He was still groggy and went back to sleep almost immediately. The nurse said his surgery had gone perfectly, which was a relief. I took a nap too, waking when they brought me in for the afternoon scan. When I opened my eyes, everything was in plaid. I groaned, and when I reported this, the nurse laughed. Apparently they'd had a pool going where they guessed what part of my brain would express something differently. Nobody had picked plaid. This was in hues that I normally liked: royal blue, turquoise, lavender, but I didn't like seeing the world like that. It looked like a freaking Snapchat filter. I hoped this would go away as quickly as the auditory stimulation orgasms had. After the scan, I slipped a little getting back into the wheelchair and I felt a blast of pain. When the nurse took a look, it seemed like the infection had returned. She called the doctor, and they examined the wound, which had started to turn red and white just from this morning. They had to open it up, clean out the pus and affected tissue, treat it, and a drain was installed. When I got back to the room after all the unpleasantness, Bucky was still out, which was good. I needed a moment to deal with this setback. An x-ray had shown that there was no visible foreign objects in or around the injury. The doctor said that they felt that it was something to do with the projectiles themselves; others who had injures from them were also having trouble with infections.

Peter came for a visit; I'd texted him that I'd been moved so that he wouldn't worry. He said that my neighborhood hadn't been affected in the attack, and that the little dogs were ok. I had completely forgotten about them and was revolted by my lack of caring. My poor pups. Pete saw I was upset and told me that they'd gotten into the big dogs' food, and there had still been water, plus they'd been able to get outside. They'd been lonely, but they were ok. I couldn't thank him enough for caring for them. He changed the subject to the cleanup efforts. A lot of people had not evacuated and they were still trying to find people trapped in collapsed or damaged buildings. He'd been cleared for only light duty since his injuries had been severe, and he was stabilizing weak points with his webbing, enabling rescuers to get to trapped people more safely and quickly. And I was stuck in this bed, unable to help at all. I made him promise to stop for a good meal and go home for rest.

When Steve came in, Bucky and I were picking unenthusiastically at dinner. The nurse was telling us that we had to eat it all because of our energy needs (Bucky's needs were more intense than mine, I reminded him) and Bucky, still feeling icky from the surgery and pain medication, said that if he was supposed to eat all of it, they should have given him food instead of whatever this was. The nurse, already under stress from the high number of people the clinic was caring for--first responders as well as supers--was about to erupt, and I didn't see how I could stop him, but Steve smoothed things over. After the nurse left, Steve promised us a treat if we ate the vegetables, so we did, and he produced sandwiches that he'd made in the kitchen up in the Avengers habitat. It was delicious, but I was still upset. When the doctor came to check on Bucky and whisked the curtain between our beds to give the illusion of privacy, Steve sat on my bed and asked what the problem really was.

"Oh, the infection is back, I found out what really happened to Bucky's arm, and I forgot about my little dogs." And I started to cry, as quietly as possible.

"Oh, sweetheart," he sighed, and scooted up the bed to hug me gently. He waited until I wound down some, then hooked the box of tissues from the table for me. "Bucky saw you go down and not move, then the pilot turned and came back, deliberately aiming for those who were trying to help the wounded. He saw an opportunity to prevent a third run. It was a little more than he bargained for," he explained gently. Then he saw the arm on the table and winced, and I explained about Forge's visit. "You're not a bad pet owner," he said, taking the tissues from me and moving the little wastebasket closer. "You were unconscious for three days, you had a concussion, there's been a lot going on. You said Pete said that they were ok, that they had food and water. They'll be ok." He got up and came around to the other side of the bed. I scooted over and he settled in with a sigh, drawing me back to lean against him. It was immensely comforting. The doctor finished talking to Bucky, and he and the nurse came around the curtain.

"So the infection's back," he said, flipping through the screens of my chart. "Well, let's take a look here." He drew back the gown to expose the bandaging and drain; when he uncovered the wound, Steve made an inarticulate sound of protest and looked away; his face was a little green. He didn't do well with injuries. "Well, we'll start you on stronger antibiotics and keep cleaning the wound," he said, and made the order. Nobody bothered to ask him what would happen if the antibiotics failed. "So, are you still seeing plaid?" he asked, and I smiled a little.

"That's fading, fortunately," I said.

"I guess this is an experimental medication," Steve said to me tartly.

I snorted. "MY treatment is in clinical trials," I said astringently. I wasn't about to allow him to get all shirty about that, not after what he'd pulled.

"Indeed," the doctor said, paging through the scans. "It's really quite remarkable. While the side effects have been irritating, it's extraordinarily effective. It's actually repairing the damage you sustained from previous concussions." I smirked. Steve had to subside.

"Where did this come from?" he asked. "Tony didn't say he was working on anything like that."

"It's from Wayne Enterprises, actually," the doctor mumbled. "They're working on some very exciting things over there." Before Steve could say anything, the doctor finished up the exam and moved on. Steve got up, pulled the curtain open so Bucky and I could chat, and stepped out of the room. I snuggled into the warm spot he'd left and asked Bucky about his surgery. It was looking really good, and I told him about Forge's interest, describing his cybernetic limbs. Bucky was definitely interested. He was tired; the tirade about dinner had worn him down, and he went back to sleep. I could tell that the infection was becoming more severe again as I started to feel poorly. I got permission to take a shower; the nurse covered the wound and the IV needle better than I could have, and I was able to get clean. I didn't have the illusion that this would last long, and it didn't. My fever was about 102 after the rounds at midnight. It was 103 in the morning. The imipenem/cilastatin wasn't working.

The antibiotics were making me drowsy and dizzy, so I kept my eyes closed and kind of drifted except when the doctor came by. A couple hours later, the doctor came back and said that I was being moved to try a new treatment. I opened my eyes enough to see Bucky and asked him to tell Peter so he wouldn't worry, then they brought in a gurney and gently lifted me onto it. I closed my eyes since seeing the overhead lights move by was making me queasy. I was surprised when cold air washed over me as the doors to the outside opened; the temperature change was too great and I started to shiver despite my blankets. A shadow passed over my face and I opened my eyes to see Thor looking down at me and frowning. Then he lifted Mjolnir, and the Bifrost light surrounded me.

This time people were waiting for me and they pushed the gurney down the Bifrost bridge quickly. I was frankly surprised that Odin would allow me to be treated here, and I fell asleep as we entered the healing suite. When I woke up again, I was in one of the recovery chambers, the lights low. I gingerly touched my side; the drain was gone and the wound was well on the way to being healed. I wiggled gently, but there was minimal pain, mostly a whole-body sort of ache, so I slowly rolled to my side and sat up.

"It is good to see you awake," a familiar voice said, and I smiled as I saw Loki. "Give me a hug, you exasperating woman." He came over to hug me tightly. "I am gone for a short period of time, and this is what happens," he complained before releasing me.

"It wasn't my intent," I assured him.

"The healers wish to monitor you a little more before sending you home," he said. "This was unlike nothing they have yet seen, apparently. I have arranged for a guesthouse for you. There is no point in being uncomfortable." He put a cloak around my shoulders and handed me thick wool socks for my bare feet, then assisted me off the gurney and we set off down the hall. Apparently winter had come to Asgard as well. We emerged into the crisp night and across a courtyard to a small dwelling similar to the one I'd been stored in during my first visit to Asgard. A fire crackled on the hearth, making the room pleasant and cozy.

"This is lovely, Loki, thank you."

"I thought my favorite aunt would like it." He patted my shoulder. "I will have a meal brought to you shortly. Rest, and I will see you tomorrow." Scarcely had he left before someone came with an enormous covered tray. I ate the delicious food, then went to the bathroom and soaked in the tub for a time. It felt wonderful to be clean again, and a dress similar to what Asgardian women wore was waiting for me when I got out. I thought it must have been purpose made, as it was my size. Pretty slippers were also present, and a decorative set of hairpins were placed by the hairbrush. I squeezed most of the water out of my hair and went to sit by the fire. There were a few books on a table by the chair, so I read Asgardian tales as my hair dried and I grew tired. I wish I'd seen the nightgown on the bed before; I could have saved myself a clothing change. I crawled between the sheets and slept.

The next morning when I woke, breakfast was waiting for me. I dressed quickly, arranging my hair with the pins, and sat down to eat. Unsurprisingly, I felt a lot better today, although I still had a few moments of dizziness due to the antibiotics still in my body. As I tidily stacked the dishes, there was a knock on the door. I opened it to see Thor and Sif. She hugged me and he patted my shoulder. "Thank you," I said to Thor, who smiled. "I'm grateful that Odin let me be treated here."

"Thank him yourself," Thor told me. "We are due in the throne room."

With great trepidation, I walked with Thor and Sif. I tried to cover my nerves by asking about little Magni, who was thriving. Soon we reached the great hall in the citadel and walked up to the foot of the stairs leading to the great golden throne. Loki stood to the side, confident but silent. Odin stood as we stopped. "Emma Harrington."

"Odin Borson," I replied. "Thank you for the care I received here."

'It allowed our healers to encounter something new, which will be beneficial in the time to come," he said, descending the stairs. "This is the first engagement in what promises to be a long-running war." He sighed. I was blindsided and fell on my butt by what seemed for a moment to be an attack but was my dogs instead. Their great plumy tails wagged frantically as they crowded around me, butting me with their heads for attention and ear skritches and muttering to me. Odin waited indulgently as I got them pacified. I looked them over carefully; out of the corner of my eye, I saw Baldur watching, his face stern and impassive. Bite me, Baldur.

"You're my wonderful boys," I said huskily, and with a last hug apiece, got to my feet again. Sigurd squeezed between Odin and me and Torburn took my other side. Odin gestured, and we started walking down the hall.

"The bond between you and these is clear to see," Odin remarked. "Baldur is not pleased by it, but he bred them to have intelligence and to know their own minds, so he cannot in logic be displeased."

"Yet he is," I murmured, and Odin smiled.

"He does regard you humans as rather useful," was all he said. "Certainly he has no complaints with their treatment." We achieved a few more yards at a deliberate pace before Odin spoke again. "When last we spoke, you declined a measure of my gratitude for your assistance in restoring my throne. I would offer you a boon in recognition of the lesson that I learned as a result of our disagreement." I was surprised. "Since that time, I have learned to value our women more fairly. You have also, I understand, opened your door to my younger son and given him a purpose and encouraged his interests, which I failed to do. This has provided a reconciliation between my sons, and between me and my younger son, to a certain extent. Loki has more gifts than I'd credited." A few more steps, and he nodded. "If you could have anything you desired, what would it be?"

"World peace?" I offered wryly.

He laughed. "Even a god cannot provide that. Perhaps if you set your sights a little less loftily."

"Then I would say it would be the ability to understand Sigurd and Torburn. They're wonderful dogs. I think they understand me, so our conversations are unfortunately one sided."

"Out of all the things I could bestow, you simply want to be able to talk to your dogs," Odin said, amused. I nodded. "I can grant you the Allspeech easily," he said. "It will enable you to understand any language in the Nine Realms and to be understood by anyone in their native tongues. However, the dogs do not speak a language, precisely; they communicate more with images and emotions."

"It's what I would like," I said. "This Allspeech could be beneficial in other situations too." Odin nodded, and touched me lightly with Gungnir; I felt a spark like severe static electricity on my forehead where the point of the spear had rested. We turned and strolled back to the people waiting by the throne. Sigurd woofed, and I got his impatience to be out and doing something, or returning home. I smiled.

"Soon enough," Odin said to him, and we returned to the group. Odin ascended to his throne once more and sat. He and Thor spoke about the aftermath of the battle and Loki was given the task of acting as liaison between Thor and Odin. He would be returning to Earth with us and coordinating information from Odin and Thor. I expressed my thanks to Odin once more, and we left, the next group of people needing an audience with Odin stepping forward briskly. We walked along the Bifrost to the observatory, where Sif said goodbye, and Heimdall sent us back to Earth. He put us down outside Avenger Tower. Loki looked around with some dismay at the damage, and I went inside and back up to the clinic. Loki would be staying at the Asgardian embassy for the time being, until he got a better idea of what his duties were. I personally felt he'd be either moving to the embassy permanently or finding a place closer to it, but I'd cross that bridge later. Up at the clinic, I had a bit of a wait, then the doctor examined me, finding that the infection was gone. He took a couple of needle biopsies to confirm and regretfully accepted my explanation that I didn't know what the Asgardians had done since I'd been unconscious. Then he sent me in for a final scan, which turned out normally. My dense brain tissue remained, as did my optical organs, but everything else was in great shape. Bruce had a winner with that medication. I was formally discharged and went to my former room to collect my stuff, accompanied by Torburn and Sigurd. The medical staff looked askance at them, but nobody dared to tell me that they couldn't be there.

Bucky was sitting up and looking good. He said he'd be getting out the next morning, barring anything unforeseen. The dogs were also glad to see him, and their mutterings to him seemed to indicate that they thought he should get his ass out of bed and play with them. I explained this to him, and he grinned. Then I curled up on the foot of his bed and heard what was going on in terms of recovery efforts and told him briefly what had happened on Asgard. I just mentioned that I'd received the gift which would help me understand the aliens, but I'm sure Bucky knew why I'd have asked for it to begin with. While we were talking about, Steve came in, his suit streaked with grime from his work in the city. I got a big hug and the dogs were greeted properly, and there was a recap of events as I collected the bag that contained the tattered remains of my costume and my utility belt. I immediately texted Peter that I was back and in good condition, then checked some other text messages I'd received.

I asked how I could be useful, and Steve was uncharacteristically vague. From the look Bucky shot him, I could tell something was up, but I didn't push it. Then I heard the characteristic tread of Iron Man's metal feet marching along the hall. Steve's face was tense, and I wondered what fresh hell Tony was going to try to inflict on me this time.


	44. Something about frying pans and fires

Tony's footsteps turned into the room, and when I looked at him, he was surveying us crossly, and a flash of some other emotion crossed his face so swiftly I couldn't identify it. "This is cozy," he said with an edge to his voice, surveying us.

"Knock it off, Tony. I've been working since five this morning with only pee breaks and a ten minute lunch break," Steve said wearily.

Tony ignored him. His deep-shadowed eyes flicked over Bucky and settled on me. Yippee. "Now that you're back, Harrington, let me bring you up to date." He efficiently told me how the cleanup efforts had progressed. "The civilian authorities want all heroes assigned to teams, for efficiency in assigning responsibilities. We want you back on the Avengers."

I wondered if Tony's bad mood was the reasoning Steve hadn't brought this up himself, because this situation wasn't awful. "Sure," I said. "It makes sense that coordinating the response would be easier with teams rather than teams and individuals."

"It wouldn't be just for this incident, though," Steve said after a short silence in which I wondered what I was missing. Tony glared at him.

"What?"

"The government is using the UN accords that we signed to mandate the registration of all heroes, including the street-level ones. You can operate on a team, or...on a team not of your choosing."

"But why?" I asked in confusion. "I don't have enhancements that are offensively useful. I can't shoot lasers out of my eyes like Superman, I've only got thicker skin and slightly higher durability that the average person. I'm not a particularly skilled fighter, especially hand to hand. I can handle the odd petty thief or crook if they're human and under specific circumstances. I don't belong on a marquee superhero team." My burner phone began signalling the arrival of texts. The first was from Batman, with a link to a breaking news article that described what Tony was telling me and contained an offer to join the Justice League, if I was looking for a team. There was also a message from a blocked number that questioned Tony's motives.

"Why this sudden push to include those of us with weak power? We're not a threat to anybody, and there's the small matter of our very finite worth in the field." I studied Tony, who looked impatient. Another text; this was from Deadpool, in one of his rare serious moods, advising me that some of the other street-level heroes--Daredevil, Jessica Jones, Iron Fist, and Luke Cage--were forming their own team to be called the Defenders. I got along pretty well with Iron Fist, but Matt never had forgiven me for discovering his identity, Jessica didn't play well with others, and Luke and I had never spent much time together, so I couldn't count on an invite there. Plus, they were all leagues better and younger than me.

"Did you even even point any of that out?" I asked, as things started to gel a little in my brain.

"Look, you might not have a lot of strength in the field, but you're far from useless. You were a legitimate Avenger, you survived the Arena. And yeah, I want you back on the team. We're going to be looking outward from the planet and we're going to need to create new defenses and weapons for the next time aliens come looking. The aliens we've encountered, the Skrulls, the Kree, even the Asgardians, regard the superheroes as Earth's law enforcement. We need all the strength we can muster. And besides," he exhaled sharply. "The government found out about your...atomic abilities. They're interested in you. If you rejoin the Avengers, we can protect you from them."

My mouth went dry. I didn't know anybody with any sort of power who didn't worry about the government, disappearing forever into some lab complex. ""You didn't mention the government's interest," Steve said, a hard edge on his voice.

"How did they find out about me?" I managed to ask. "I've tried really hard to keep that under wraps." Tony shrugged. "Did you do that, Tony?" I asked slowly. "Please tell me that you're not responsible for that."

In the silence that followed, I knew that he'd screwed me over once again. And this wasn't just a betrayal of trust. This was a Big Damn Deal. If the government knew about the extra organs in my brain...I was a little afraid of what they'd do to me. "So it's you or the government, is that what you're saying?" I managed to ask with difficulty. "Do they have my medical records?" I asked.

"Not that I know about," Tony said shortly.

I got to my feet with difficulty. "I need to think about this," I said faintly, and stumbled on my way to the door. I made sure to take my bag with the ruined costume. The truth perfume was still in its place on the utility belt.

"Goddamn it, Tony!" Steve said as I left the room.

"The government will take her brain apart," Bucky said. "That was an evil thing you did."

"You'd know about evil--" Tony said heatedly. Blessedly, the door cut him off. The dogs were silent until we got home. Peter wasn't there yet.

I called Batman and asked if he knew of a computer virus that could take out the records of an entire business, say, a medical clinic. "What's this about?" Batman asked suspiciously, and I spilled my guts as I took out the file with my notes on creating and refining the truth perfume. I took out the pages that had the final formulation on them and replaced the folder. I went out to the back yard and quickly burned them in the firepit that was rarely used. Snow had started to fall again, and I stayed outside until all the pages were ash and cold.

Bruce had to repeat himself; he'd asked me what I wanted to do. "I'm not sure," I said, on the edge of tears. "I'm just a little...frightened." Terrified, was more like it. I went back inside and washed my hands, sitting on the floor with the dogs beside me for comfort. Bruce was advising me that my rights were few, when there was a knock on the door. On my porch were a couple of men in uniforms. I retreated and whispered to Bruce, who told me to put the phone down but leave the line open. I placed it behind the TV and reluctantly opened the door.

"Ms Harrington?" the older one asked. I nodded.

"I'm Major Olshanski, this is Captain Graham. We are from a newly forming Army unit that will address superhero activity in the US. May we come in?" After a moment, I stepped back and opened the door wider. They filed in and stopped, looking at the dogs.

"They don't look that big in the photographs," the major said. I sat in the chair and the dogs moved to flank me. The officers sat on the sofa. "I understand that you were taken to Asgard recently for medical treatment," the major said.

"Yes, they were able to cure a difficult infection that I had as a result of the defense of the city," I said. I wasn't sure whether they were just making conversation or making sure I knew they had up to date information.

"Stark said he was going to tell you about the new change to US rules regarding superheroes. Has he done that?" the captain asked.

"He told me that superheroes had to choose a team to belong to," I said carefully. "He also said that if I didn't join a team, the government would take custody of me." My voice was flat.

"It's true that we're very interested in some of your abilities," the major said in an unexpectedly straightforward manner. "But the main concern right now is that you continue to work for the benefit of the country and its citizens. Rejoining the Avengers would serve that purpose."

"You should be careful in selecting your team," the captain added, leaning forward. "Once your team roster is finalized, there's not going to be any trading around. You've been observed talking to members of the Justice League. They're a little shady. Superman's an alien, Wonder Woman is some sort of supernatural construct, if rumors of her creation by a being known as Zeus are accurate. We don't know who Batman is, but he's not as reliable as Stark, anyway, at least not as far as a known track record with the government is concerned. Other teams may form, or you might be contacted by established teams like the X Men. They're a rather volatile group and we would prefer that you limit contact with them." 

"Given what is known about your temperament, we know it is unlikely that you would comply with our medical personnel, so the determination has been made that if you don't rejoin the Avengers, our doctors would remove the extra organs that apparently enhance your sight following a period of experimentation. A sample of the denser brain would be taken as well, and then you would be released. We're not especially interested in your skin," the major told me bluntly.

"The doctors told me that those organs are in areas of my brain that make them inoperable," I said numbly. The major shrugged.

"Until those aliens showed up, it wasn't a pressing matter," the captain said. "Now it's a matter of urgency to get as many assets as possible on our side. It's about our survival, the continuation of our basic freedoms. If the sacrifice of a few ensures that, well. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one." He sat back, looking pleased with himself. I was outraged at this misappropriated quote.

"One more thing before we go," the major said, standing. "You have developed some sort of successful truth serum. I want all you have, plus whatever paperwork you have." After a moment, I shoved myself out of the chair, told the dogs to stay, and retrieved the vial from my utility belt. It was almost gone. I handed it directly to the major, being sure not to touch him at all, then went to the filing cabinet and pulled out the recently edited file. I'd gotten to it right in time.

"This is all I have," I said, handing it over. "But you should know that I haven't been able to replicate the formula. Something apparently went wrong when I made it. There's something else in there that I can't account for. You'll need to analyze it, see if you can't find out what's there. I don't have the equipment, and I'm not very gifted in spectroscopy, anyway."

The captain frowned. "And you're sure that this is all your work?" He indicated the thick file.

"Every scrap of paper I have on the formula is in that file," I said truthfully.

The major, followed by the captain, headed for the door. "Stark will let us know what you've decided," the major said casually. "I advise you not delay in making your choice." I locked the door behind them, took a moment to wait until their car pulled away, then looked for any listening devices they might have planted. I didn't find any, but I went back outside anyway.

"Did you get that?" I asked Batman.

"I did. I would advise you to do as they say and rejoin the Avengers for your own protection. I'll take care of the clinic, although they might have your records anyway. I'll be in touch," he said brusquely, and hung up. I went back inside, and the dogs whined anxiously. They wanted to know if they could track down the officers.

"That wouldn't be a good idea," I said, kneeling to give them a hug, then passed out extra treats. At that point, the door opened and Peter came in with the three little dogs. The big dogs bounded over and I went over to give them attention. Then I got to my feet and took Peter out to the kitchen. The dogs all followed, in search of more treats. They settled down, and I explained what had happened. He was dumbfounded, then angry, both at the officers and at Stark.

"I'm not going to join, if that's what they do," he said as mad as I'd ever seen him.

"Don't be so hasty, honey. You have to assume that whatever Stark knows, they know. If they're willing to fricasee my brain, god knows what they'll do to you," I urged him.

"So you're saying we should play along," he said angrily.

"For the time being," I said. We stared at each other for long moments.

"Ok," he said. "For now."

"There's no point in charging off without a plan," I said. He nodded.

"We need information first," he said. I nodded. "Then we plan."


	45. Picking my battles

I had a horrible night. Now that I had the threat of brain surgery hanging over my head, it had proven a great addition to my nightly nightmares. But the dogs didn't wake until I sat up in bed and turned on the light, so apparently it all remained in my head. Which is good, because I didn't need to give Peter anything else to worry about.

I used that time before I could get back to sleep to apply some blunt-force logic to calm myself down. First of all, I am not without resources. I have money and I'm devious. Second, it's one thing to threaten somebody with brain-butchering surgery, and another thing entirely to find a doctor to perform it. My doctor had said that any surgery, if for example the organs started to fail or a tumor formed, was out of the question, even in the worst-case scenario, and that I'd find, shopping for a second opinion, that nobody would touch it. Then there was the forcing of everybody to join teams and work. Everybody who could help was helping, so why the press gang approach? I fell asleep pondering these questions.

Over breakfast, I talked to Peter about some of this. "Honey, I'm concerned about this registration of all the supers. Do you know if there's an exclusion for those who are underage?"

He put down his spoon. "No, there isn't. And it's public."

I nodded. He wouldn't want everybody finding out about his alter ego. "May I suggest that you lie low for awhile? I've got some ideas."

"People out there need my help," he said mulishly.

"I'm not denying that. Just for a day or two."

"Well, we get to go back to the apartment today. I'm supposed to meet May there this afternoon." He shook his head. "The damage to the city is weird. There are pockets where there's a huge amount of damage to the streets and buildings, then other big chunks aren't even touched, or the damage isn't structural."

"That's something to be grateful for," I agreed. "Listen, I need to get in touch with my lawyer, but I'd like to acquaint him with my situation before dropping in. Do you think that you could hand-deliver a letter for me?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, interested.

"He's not a hero, just a damned good lawyer," I said, smiling at him. "But if he doesn't feel comfortable working on these issues--he does corporate, mostly--he'd be able to research and find me names for lawyers I can trust." He looked curious. "One of those things concerns you. I don't think we're going to be able to carve out an exemption for underage heroes, if anything the argument will be that they need supervision. I think we can apply pressure to keep the names out of the public realm, though. For all heroes, but especially the minors. What do you think about that?"

"If I have to register, then that would be the best case outcome, I guess," he said. I patted his hand where it rested on the table.

"Times are changing," I said a little sadly. "I think what we need is an absolute asskicker of a civil rights lawyer. We get that, I think we'll get the best deal that we can." Peter picked up his spoon and poked at his cereal. In the end, he agreed to make himself scarce for a couple of days, and we left to get him a burner phone. Two actually; a backup in case something happened to the first one. I didn't want him to be without resources. To that end, I also gave him some cash for emergency purposes. Just in case he couldn't reach me and something happened. Then he took my letter and took off. I made myself go to the tower, picking a different route where I could see a different view of the damage.

A lot had gotten done, actually. People from all over the country had descended on Washington and New York to help. My recent outing made me both known and recognized; I got a lot of hails from people as I passed. I stopped frequently to ask how they were doing and to thank them for their help, hear their opinions. I felt like I had to explain why I hadn't been helping, but people were pretty easygoing. Apparently there had been a team of journalists who'd been trapped when we had to fall back to the tower who had filmed the battle and it was known that I'd been hit. Several people asked about Bucky, his heroics had featured in the film. I was glad to hear their concern for him, given that some people still seemed to think he was half a step away from being a psycho killer. Eventually, though, I reached the tower.

When I checked in, the front desk guard handed me a new Avengers ID on a lanyard. I took it like it was dirty and put it in my pocket. Then I went upstairs to the clinic; I asked one of the nurses if there were any records of my medical file being accessed after I was no longer a patient in the clinic. There had been one when I was on Asgard, but there wasn't a way of determining who had accessed the file or from where; the system only logged that the file had been accessed from some place other than the clinic. I went in to see Bucky; he was getting ready to be discharged which was excellent news. I waited around until he signed his paperwork. His doctor was explaining about how long he would need before we could attach a new arm when the doctor cursed and excused himself. Bucky and I looked at each other. When the doctor came back, jaw clenched and upset, he had the news that the clinic computer system, separate from the rest of the tower, had been hacked and patient data files were being breached and deleted. I really hoped that this was Batman. 

Bucky and I went upstairs. Had to be done, sooner or later. The rest of the Avengers were in a meeting. I reluctantly took the last chair and listened to Jim's summary of restoration efforts, which had switched from recovery of survivors to clean up. Then Steve gave out assignments; I was to help out by City Hall. With only one arm, Bucky was stuck getting more up to date and acting as our press liaison. I was grateful I had two functional arms. But shoot. Avengers Tower was located on Broadway in Times Square and wasn't that far from Hell's Kitchen, but City Hall was way down in lower Manhattan. I would be getting a lot of mileage today.

As I got up, a bag landed in front of me. "What's this?" I asked Stark, not touching it.

"Your costume. A replica of your last Paladin outfit." I nudged the bag back to Stark with the toe of my boot.

"Nope. Paladin is retired. I'm Poppy now, and Poppy belongs to New York."

Stark looked like he was going to argue, but Natalia said that my Poppy alias would be better PR, and he shut up.

"If you insist on me using the costume department, I demand to retain the right to control my image. Any alterations to my costume must be approved by me. In advance, and before you get any ideas, I'm not living here, either," I said, looking past him, then I sidestepped the bag and Stark and headed for the elevators.

I caught a bus partway down and used the time to check my burner phone. I had a message from Foggy, who proposed a meeting time of 5pm, perfect. I called the office and left a message that I'd be there. I spent the rest of the bus ride talking to the other riders. A lot were working on digging out, but businesses were reopening and life was returning. I got some recommendations for restaurants that were open around City Hall, and got off when it would be faster to walk. The subway wasn't open yet; there had been damage, and inspectors were still going through the tunnels.

I reported to the foreman of the project, and he assigned me to join a team assessing a parking structure. The dogs were a big help, and were able to get into places that we couldn't, despite their size, and it was thanks to them that were were able to rescue what turned out to be the last survivors: two people trapped in a car, dangerously dehydrated. I ordered and picked up lunch for my team, then afterward, then I was elected to meet with the mayor and other officials who wanted to know how things were progressing. I couldn't blame them; I was the amateur on the crew, and besides, nobody else wanted to do it. So I joined representatives from other crews and we took turns updating the mayor in front of city hall and news crews. My report that we'd found survivors was news, and after the meeting, I had to answer questions from the press. Still, I was going to need the media, so it was a good chance to be get them on my side. I answered questions about the rescue; Sigurd and Torburn thought that the questions were ridiculous, but did enjoy the attention they got when their role was highlighted. I made it clear that the rescue had been achieved thanks to my teammates (whom I named) and the professionalism of the first responders. Chandra Newton, one of the reporters for the metro's leading local news station, accompanied me back, chatting on the way, being charmed by the dogs. She took the time to interview the team leader. Her questions were brief, descriptive, and allowed him to showcase the team and his leadership, and everybody seemed happier when we went back. Because our work wasn't a priority, we quit when it started to get dark as lighting was only available for priority projects. The dogs and I hustled up to Hell's Kitchen for our appointment. We waited quietly; the paralegal must not be back to work yet, and the lights in both partner's offices were on. Interesting. I didn't know that Daredevil was back in town.

After a bit, the client from Foggy's office left, and Foggy's face broke into a smile when he saw me. After a hug, he he flipped the pups some Milk Bones and took us into his office. After we sat down, Foggy said, "We're waiting for Matt on this one." Then we chatted until we heard noise outside, and Matt Murdoch came in without knocking. "This is an interesting issue," Matt said as he took a device and scanned the office interior. The green light stayed on, and he set it precisely on Foggy's desk and sat with us. "I didn't know the extent of the threats against supers," he said. "Our civil rights are being trampled all over the place, and right now, the threats against you are the worst. We also need to protect the minors among us, and I'm sure there are more than we know about." We started to talk about a potential lawsuit. I thought a moment before pulling out my burner and calling Batman. No chitchat; I just asked him a question and he replied in the affirmative, then we hung up. I smiled at the lawyers.

"A third party has a recording of the conversation I had with the two officers," I said. "I was speaking to him when they showed up, and he had me leave the line open. I was glad, frankly, I was afraid I was going to disappear into the night." My smile faded.

Matt actually rubbed his hands together. "I don't think we're at that stage yet where they can just make you disappear, especially since they think you can be intimidated into doing what they want you to do. I want to bring another civil liberties lawyer in on this; it's likely to be too big for our firm, and I want to be sure that Daredevil can testify if needed." We talked about it for a bit, then I gave them some papers I'd forgotten about: patent applications for my alloys and a copyright on my image as Poppy. Matt smirked and said they'd pass the alloys on to a patent lawyer but that Foggy could take care of the copyright. I had to get going and they wanted to start doing the work. I left another check to make sure there was enough money for the new lawyer and to get started as quickly as possible.

I went back to the tower to report. Tony pounced on me immediately, wanting to know where I'd been. "It's not exactly a short walk between here and there," I said shortly. "There's also piles of debris to avoid, and I can't find a bus that runs the whole way. What is the problem, anyway? There are still people who haven't gotten back yet."

'You need to play ball, Harrington," Tony said sternly. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm here, aren't I? I'm putting a good face on for the public. Be happy with that." I went around him to the conference table, where I plopped down. As if it were a signal, the others also came to the table. Hawkeye poured me some water while he was getting some for himself.

"So you guys found some survivors?" he asked, and everybody had questions and stories about their own day's work. The heroes with suits, like Stark or Jim, or enhancements like Cap or Natalia fared the best; they could work harder and longer than the rest of us. Then Bucky showed up, and the show could start. He'd brought a roundup of media coverage of us; the media for once weren't blaming the heroes for the mess, and our willingness to get our suits dirty was a real plus for us. The media were treating us kindly, and Steve, Tony, and Sam had also been interviewed. Tony pulled up some numbers; the Avengers apparently had some kind of polling firm or way of tracking public opinion. Surprisingly, a local clip showing the dogs and me at the parking garage, with me getting dirty with my crew members was trending internationally. It included a moment where I rubbed my knees, and Don had paused to ask if I was ok.

"Just some arthritis," I said, and he looked surprised.

"I didn't think you guys had to worry about that," he said.

"Maybe some of us don't, but I sure do. I didn't even notice it until after that night, but apparently my knees took a beating. I don't remember."

He had a friendly, snorty kind of laugh. "We all saw you in the footage from Avengers tower. Yeah, I'd say your knees took a beating, along with the rest of you. We--" And the video cut off.

"Comments echo the surprise of your coworker, that you'd have something like arthritis, and admiration that you're out and helping despite your aches and pains. Referencing the battle at the tower also reminded people that you'd been shot, so that's another plus for you," Stark said briskly, and talked about other numbers for us individually and as a team. Then there were the requests for the next day; our stronger members were still in demand, but those of us who were just regular and without special training were rapidly becoming superfluous as the cleanup became more a matter of getting equipment in and stabilizing weak places. "Don't worry, though, we'll have plenty for you to do," Stark said. Then the meeting broke up and I headed for the door. Tony intercepted me and tossed another bag over. I looked at it without enthusiasm. "It matches the last photos of you in your costume," he said, then turned away. I continued on my way to the elevator without a comment. I'd try it on at home and judge it there.

Bucky and Steve joined me at the elevator, and nobody spoke until we got into the night air. It was snowing lightly again; as it accumulated it was still stained with ash. I wondered if I'd ever see clean white snow again and if I'd think it was weird by that time. As we started walking, I casually said to Bucky, "I'm thinking I'll start work on your arm at home. I heard from Samuel today, he and Forge have a design for an amazing new arm for you. Even if you can't wear it for a bit, it'd be nice for you to have it as soon as it can be attached."

"Yeah, it doesn't look like there's going to be time for much beside the cleanup," Bucky said thoughtfully.

"T'Challa is selling me the vibranium directly," I mentioned.

Steve looked at me sharply, then smiled. "Doesn't sound like you'll need Avenger Tech at all," he commented casually.

"No, I don't think so," I said, and we turned into a Chinese place to eat and warm up. It was really cold. Once we ordered, I checked my phone. Peter and May were cleared to move back into their apartment. I was kind of disappointed; I liked having him around, but at the same time, it would be kind of a relief to have the house to myself for a bit, not having to worry about always putting a good face on. After we'd finished eating and were getting ready to leave, a few diners approached us and we posed for selfies with them. The dogs were also petted and had their pictures taken. We went home and I let myself into my empty house. I looked around and wished I'd gotten the fireplace fixed. It would be nice to have a fire. I did the next best thing and went out to the firepit, where I made a small fire and wrapped up in a blanket for awhile. Then I went inside and grabbed some things, going back out to have some s'mores. I was happily stuffing my face when I heard the gate open; I looked around to see Bucky and Steve. I held up the toasting fork , and they came forward eagerly. We talked about nothing in particular and my hands were sticky from the marshmallows by the time we ran out of chocolate. Bucky went inside, and while he was in the house, I sighed and leaned against Steve. He put his arm around me and we sat in silence for a moment.

"I guess you've had a busy day," he said finally, and I nodded. "You know you can count on me for anything." I smiled up at him.

"I"m hoping to speak softly and carry a big stick," I told him.

"Knowing you, it'll be a club, with highly specific attachments and functions," Bucky said, rejoining us. We sat quietly for a moment, then got up and put out the fire and the boys went home. I took a quick shower to get the grime from the day's exertions off, then a nice hot bath, and then it was time for bed. The nightmares weren't quite as bad.


	46. The next steps

The next morning, I dressed in the new Poppy costume with no enthusiasm. It was very similar to my original and certainly the construction was better; I didn't have a lot of experience with sewing leather and there had been some places where I'd made things work out. For some reason, I liked that the metal poppies that I'd made were replicated using paint and stains rather than metal replicas. The tights were thicker, which was nice, and the boots had an insulated lining so I'd be pretty cozy, all things considered. The belt didn't fit as well, so I used the old one instead. I zipped up the jacket, put on the lined gloves, used my hip sash as a scarf, and walked down to collect the boys.

"So why do you want to make my arm at home?" Bucky asked as we arrived at my car.

"Because Tony acts like that spoiled kid who takes his ball and leaves if he doesn't get his own way," I said. "I'd like to prevent him from having a leg to stand on, so to speak, if he tries to exert pressure over your arm. Samuel is working for T'Challa, who has made it clear that this is not Avenger business. Forge is contributing his expertise with the intention of doing some testing and you answering some questions about how it works, which I think you've already agreed to."

"You think he'd really do that?" Steve asked.

"I think you shouldn't underestimate a guy who'd throw me to the wolves," I said grimly as I hit the button to unlock the doors.

"What do you mean?" Bucky said, pouncing. Shoot. I didn't tell them what I'd been threatened with. I pressed my lips shut.

"Emma!" Steve barked suddenly and I jumped. He glared at me.

"If I didn't agree to join the Avengers... two officers from the Army showed up at my house the night before last. They said it was the Avengers or them, and by them they didn't mean a nice little lab on an Army base. They chose the Avengers because Stark can be leaned on, demonstrably."

"So what does that mean?" Bucky asked ominously.

I looked down at my toes. "They said they had doubts about my willingness to cooperate, so they said I'd be operated on and the extra organs in my brain would be removed after some experimentation," I said finally, not looking up. Having to state it myself like that terrified me again.

"I thought those things couldn't be removed," Steve said tensely.

"The doctors here said that they can't be reached without trashing my brain," I said quietly. "They're not concerned with the consequences."

My dogs butted me to show their support as Steve and Bucky began swearing. You could certainly tell they'd been in the military themselves due to the depth and richness of the curses.

"Normally it's entertaining when you guys swear," I said tightly. "But it's not helping."

Bucky cut himself off abruptly. "You're right, doll. But you don't have to worry. Nobody's going to hack into your brain while we're around." He put his arm around me and gave me a squeeze.

"So what are you planning?" Steve asked, touching my cheek gently.

"First is the legal front. I've got lawyers working on the civil rights violations, not just me, but also for other supers, including Peter. I also need to build up public sympathy. And yesterday, somebody hacked into the clinic's server and deleted the clinic's patient files. This is unfortunate for my future medical treatment, but it should prevent anybody else from accessing my data. Somebody took a look while I was on Asgard. Somebody offsite, but who had access, apparently. The system logged it. But if everything fails, well...I have friends who could help me disappear," I said quietly. I knew Loki would help, and even if the price of securing a safe place meant that I had to use my abilities for someone else, like Odin, it would still be better than having my head filleted. Steve had a serious look on his face and Bucky looked downright homicidal.

We got into the car in silence. I took out a sensor and waved it around, but it didn't detect any listening devices. I started the engine and pulled out. "Let's see how the lawsuit goes," Steve finally said. I nodded. The rest of the drive was silent. At the tower, nothing was new and I received my assignment to help out at the tower without comment. I was the first one down to the street, and put on my work gloves to help clear the street. Huge equipment was taking care of the big rubble but smaller things needed to picked up or swept up. There was also glass in addition to concrete and asphalt and other debris such as wiring. We put aside anything that might be reusable or recyclable or looked like someone's personal property. There would be a warehouse where people could see if they could identify possessions.

I stopped and stepped back when a massive dump truck made its way down the street, the excavator that had been filling it backed off, and bumped into Colin, from the Daily Bugle. We chatted a bit, watching the progress. "You're looking a little ragged," he observed.

I smiled at him without much humor. "I don't get a lot of sleep," I said. "Nightmares."

"Must have been pretty bad," he said after a bit.

I nodded. "I worked with Flash for awhile, then he went down. Fortunately he's ok. And it was all about killing, there wasn't any surrender for those aliens, either species. So much blood. The snow, and the ash. My arm was swollen for days from firing the gun for hours. Hundreds of rounds. Seeing some of the cops and National Guardsmen injured and killed. And getting injured. And now that I'm able to help...we keep finding bodies. Those who wouldn't leave. There are a lot of children. Runaways, apparently."

He patted my shoulder. "And you rejoined the Avengers."

"Yeah, I don't know why that was mandated. I'd have helped anyway. We all would." The dump truck had passed and an excavator rolled up. "Back to work," I said, smiling briefly. Then I saw with horror that the bucket, swinging to the left, hit somebody. I ran over with others to find a man sprawled on the ground. A fireman dropped to his knees but drew back abruptly. Then we saw what he saw. Green/blue blood.

Hysteria broke out, and it was difficult to get it under control. People had begun to feel complacent once the Skrulls and Kree had been beaten back. The fireman and a policeman managed to get the crowd under control, and after checking my pouches, I found the little lancets and suggested a nice round of blood draws. That calmed people down some.

Then they found a new target for their fear. "Why aren't you out finding these freaks?" one man asked me angrily.

'Yeah, what are you doing here? Why aren't you doing more?" a woman accused me.

I stepped onto a chunk of concrete. "I'm doing what I can. I can't fly. I don't have superstrength or the ability to go into outer space or engineer an amazing weapon. The truth is that we beat them off. For awhile. They'll be back. Just because I have some abilities doesn't mean that I, or any super, can do everything. Right now, the brightest minds on the planet are looking at ways to stop the next invasion in space. NASA is working on it. Private companies are working on it. And supers who have the skills, expertise, and knowledge, are working on it too. But supers are the minority. Always have been, always will be. Right now, regular people are the ones most likely to come up with a solution, which supers will probably be the best people to execute. So until then, we do what we can, to serve the best we can. And right now, the best that I can do is to help clean up." I looked at everybody in the crowd. Not defiantly, just encouraging them to see the truth. People turned away, still angry, and got back to work. The Skrull was being taken away. I also got back to work. I picked up rubble for awhile, then slipped into the tower and went up to inform whoever was around.

Unfortunately, that turned out to be Stark, Bucky, and Natalia. I reported the incident and caught some heat from Stark about not reporting right after.

"I wanted to show that I was there to work, which I am," I said pointedly. Stark turned away and started pacing. "We need a better response than the one I just gave," I said to the others.

"Whats wrong with that one?" Natalia said. "We need to make sure that the norms don't think we're going to solve all their problems for them. That they're not powerless."

"Do we need to coordinate with somebody, or can we issue our own statement?" Bucky asked.

"I'll take care of it," Stark said brusquely."It needs to seem like we're working on the problem. Don't need to make us look helpless." He looked at me.

"I'm so tired of getting fucked in ways that don't end in me having an orgasm," I said angrily. Natasha laughed and pushed me toward the door. I went back down to the rubble, forcing down the anger, frustration, and humiliation, and started coiling some low-gauge wire. I wasn't surprised to find Colin wandering back over.

"Got a comment on that scene back there?"

"Off the record, in my defense, I was left unsupervised," I muttered, then looked at him. "The thing is, I understand that people are scared and worried. I am too. But we all have talents and abilities that are useful in this situation. We all have to keep our heads. The Kree and the Skrulls didn't come here because of something that the Avengers did, or the X Men, or the Justice League. They came here because we have things that they want. Population and resources. I personally think what's going to save us is our collective determination not to be conquered. That we each use our strengths and not give in to our weaknesses. We can do this." Then I sighed. "But for the official reaction, you need to talk to Tony Stark. He's upstairs right now."

He stopped the recording on his phone and tapped my shoulder with it. "But people like you more,' he said, smiling, and turned for the doors. The tower had lost a lot of glass, and the lower levels had plywood over the broken panes.

When the light started to fade, I leaned on the building and checked my burner. Nothing yet. Then I checked my cell phone. Meeting in ten. I took a minute and opened a couple of apps. On my home Pinterest screen was a quote: Don't do anything half-assed. Always give it your full ass.

I straightened up and went back upstairs. There was a package for me, from T'Challa. I grinned. It was the vibranium and the components for the new arm. I sat in silence between Sam and Jim until everybody got there, rolling my water bottle between my hands. As everybody else chatted, I checked my burner covertly under the table and found pictures of Reed Richards--Mr Fantastic, leader of the Fantastic Four, meeting with Professor Xavier and Iron Man, Iron Man talking to Dr Strange. The locations were out of the way and the photographs had been zoomed to the maximum. The last photo had a message: Illuminati. I started to get a bad feeling. Steve, the last to arrive, sat down, and Tony laid into me, telling the group about the incident with the Skrull.

"What's so bad about that?" Sam said, puzzled. "It sounds like a reasonable response."

"We need to have a single message," Jim said. "Carefully crafted." Jim's a nice guy, but sometimes such an ass-kisser. Usually Tony's.

"I'm working with PR and a few authorities to determine what we should be saying. Until then, refer requests for quotes up here," Tony said stiffly.

"What's the Illuminati, Tony?" I asked, looking up from the water bottle. "Because you've been meeting covertly with Dr Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme, Professor Xavier of the X-Men, and Mr Fantastic of the Fantastic Four."

Surprise and dismay flashed across Tony's face. "It's nothing, really."

"That doesn't sound like the whole story," Hawkeye said.

"We discussed forming a think tank, for superhero concerns," Tony said. "It didn't fly. OK? Happy now, Harrington?"

"Not really," I said. "Because the four of you are among the brightest of the supers, what did you think you were really going to accomplish? Controlling all the supers? Making us all fall in line? What do you have on the rest of them, or are you just threatening to give them to the military for experiments too, the ones with interesting abilities, anyway?" Then I sat back.

"I was trying to save you, Harrington!" Tony hissed.

"Funny, when those Army officers were threatening me with illegal surgery and lab rat duties, I didn't feel particularly saved."

"What Army officers?" Jim asked. That's when the meeting went to hell. Everybody piled on Tony. After an hour or so, everybody's thoughts and feelings had been explored. Tony had sworn to give up on the Illuminati, which he finally said couldn't even agree on whether to meet, and promised to be more up front with the members of the team. I was the only one there under duress, so while the others were worried about me, at least they weren't facing incarceration in a lab. Finally the meeting broke up and I headed downstairs.

I had an idea. I ducked out of the lobby into the dark where there was currently no security camera coverage, double-checking with heat vision, and made a quick call on the burner.

"Do you know of any way to fool an x-ray?" I asked Loki.

"Interesting question," he said slowly. "Any reasons why?"

"I would like to make it look like the organs in my head have gone away. Get some interested parties off my back."

"Ah." He was silent a moment. "I think it could be done. Give me a couple of days."

I agreed to meet him in the Asgardian embassy in two days. Then I hung up as the door opened and Bucky and Steve came out of the building, looking for me. We went back in and down to the parking garage, and picked up takeout on the way home. We ate at Bucky's. Nobody talked about what had happened at the meeting; we watched 'On the Town' on TMC, then Steve walked me and the dogs home.

"I have the feeling you're planning something," he said as we turned into the yard.

"Well, I'm exploring an option," I said, and he left it at that with a nod. Then he surprised me, lightly brushing his lips over mine.

"Let me know what you need."

"I need you to have plausible deniability," I whispered, and he grinned, then kissed me lightly and went back down the path to the street.


	47. Truth comes out

The next morning at the meeting, it was determined that the cleanup was at the point where it was too dangerous for amateurs to be mucking around due to the possibility of shifting debris piles that could trap us, so we were released to do other things. The dogs had elected to stay home today with the little dogs, and I missed their company. Not having team assignments, I went to my store. I was glad to see that that part of town that wasn't heavily damaged, and the building had come through unscathed. I locked the door behind me and smiled as I looked around, letting the serenity of the place soothe me. Out of habit, I checked the safes. Both appeared to have been untouched. I hoped Selina was ok. I got to work, finishing up my next design for Catwoman and a few pieces that had gone unfinished in the hubbub before the attack, then got to work on a new idea. I took small diameter silver tubing, cut it into segments, and capped one end and polished the other. Then I cut silver bar stock into small lengths, sharpened one end, and soldered it to a small silver disk, then carefully cut a small cork and affixed this after spearing it with the needle. I checked to be sure it was watertight, then finished three with a mirror polish and three with a sandblasted texture. I soldered on little loops so a chain could be passed through, and I had some little blood-testing kits.

I paused for a lunch, then went back up and began stringing pearls. The knots between each one were fiddly things. I looked up at a knock on the door. A middle-aged man brightened when he saw me. He said he was Christmas shopping, and I was startled to find out how close it was. I let him in, then decided just to open and see if anybody else came by. Since I wasn't set up, I asked for some guidelines for what he was looking for before bringing out trays of things that fit the description. He was recently remarried and wanted this first Christmas with his new wife and his step-daughter to be special. It was nice just to be able to spend time with a single customer rather than keeping track of several. He bought a bracelet with pretty enameled links for his stepdaughter and earrings shaped like fuchsias, with red and pink gemstone beads at the ends of the stamens. As he made his selection, he said that his stepdaughter hadn't been that enthused that her mother was remarrying, but she'd come around, especially after her dad had bailed before a father-daughter deal at their church and he'd stepped in. The fuchsias reminded him of gardens they'd seen in Europe on their honeymoon; there'd been a beautiful blue variety he'd liked. I boxed up the pieces for him and threw in one of the new testers for being my first customer after the attack. When I explained that the vial could be filled with alcohol to sterilize the needle, he bought two more. There had been articles in the papers about the incident outside the tower with the Skull yesterday.

After the man left, I shook my head in disgust. I hadn't made any preparations for Christmas; I'd planned to get nice wrapping paper for the holiday but had forgotten. And I had no idea what to get anybody for Christmas.

I had a couple more customers before I left for the afternoon meeting. One of them had a little girl with him who recognized me from the TV. She was very excited to meet me and very sweet, so I excused myself for a moment on impulse and glued a silver loop into the half-drilled hole of a pearl, then returned and gave it to the little girl, who was fascinated. Her father tried to pay me for it, but I refused. The pearl wasn't symmetrical enough to use with others and it was a freshwater pearl, not expensive but still pretty.

"You're going to go bankrupt if you give everything away." I looked up in surprise and saw Loki, moving out of the door as the man and his daughter left. I hurried over for a hug, which was returned with interest. We chatted as I cleared everything back to the safes (changing the combination for the one Selina cracked just for fun.)

"I have a solution for your problem," he said quietly as he helped, and flashed me a smile. "And you don't even have to go to Asgard to get it." He gave me a cabochon star sapphire set very simply into a silver setting. "The enchantment will take eight days to fully take effect and it will give the illusion that the places in your brain are shrinking and some scar tissue is forming, although of course it won't actually affect your abilities. It will start working as soon as you put it on. This should help your physician come to the conclusion that the concussion medication has most likely had this effect and the scar tissue will indicate the unlikeliness that they will return. For any interested parties who want to know. The enchantment will continue once it fully takes effect, but you won't have to wear the pendant afterward to get the effect on your imaging equipment."

"I can't thank you enough," I said, immediately putting it on a chain and tucking it under my clothes.

"It is a pleasure to be able to help you for a change," he said lightly, and we left together. I had to hurry back to the tower for the meeting, which was boring and pointless. Captain America had to do some press, and Bucky was working on the firing range with Jim to calibrate a replacement weapon in his suit, so it was a perfect opportunity to slip down to the clinic. I didn't have to fake being disturbed when they showed me the comparison between my latest x ray and one from a couple of years ago, before they switched to using digital images over film. There was about a twenty percent reduction in the size of the organs that the doctor pointed out, and he was worried about the 'scarring,' feeling that this was an indicator that this wasn't a temporary thing. I lied and said I couldn't see down into the atomic level and that I was having trouble shifting molecules around. The doctor frowned and made me an appointment for the next day. I kept an appropriately worried look on my face. When I caught the elevator, Natalia was on it too.

"Everything ok?" she asked when I got on, glancing at the clinic doors before the elevator closed.

"Hope so," I said briefly, and left it at that. You can't call her a gossip, really, but I knew that she'd tell Clint where she'd seen me and word would diffuse.

I was halfway home when I got a call from Nelson and Murdoch wondering if I could come take a look at the filing they were going to do. I immediately headed back up to Hell's Kitchen. As I read it over, Matt took me through it. I was suing the government for conscription and the military for coercion and intentional infliction of emotional distress. I was asking for relief from the restrictions mandating a team, restrictions on the use of the supers' registration list to protect identity, addresses, and protected classes like minors, limiting information collected by the FBI and other governmental agencies on supers, and demanding payment for conscription. From the military, I was asking protection from illegal surgery and coerced experimentation and money damages for the emotional distress. 

"Let's file," I said.

When I went outside, I saw it was later than I'd expected; I'd been inside longer than anticipated. I looked up at the pale moon and smiled after a moment. It was a good reminder that all things pass. I put my hand on the door handle, then looked up again; Iron Man was headed west, across the river. I double checked his trajectory; he hadn't come quite from the tower. He'd said specifically that he had paperwork to do all night. I got in my car and followed him. What with the traffic being unexpectedly light, I was able to keep him in sight. He wasn't flying at combat speed, which drew attention due to the sound he generated. I ended up in a crumbly sort of industrial park, the kind with weeds growing through cracks in the asphalt and lots of evidence of deferred maintenance. I parked outside and slipped in. In one unit that was supposed to house environmental testing, I saw a figure the right size giving off significant amounts of heat, which was correct for a powered flight of that duration from the friction of the air. The faster and longer he flew, the more the suit heated up. There was only one window that was close to the main area, and there was a light outside for safety in the parking lot. It was one of the few that still worked. I paused, then focused on burning out the filament in the bulb. It wasn't hard, it was going to go soon anyway. The window was locked, but it was a single-pane window, easy enough to hear through.

I listened as Stark described the events of the day and information about the city's supers with three other people. He complained at length about me. I'd have done a high five if anybody'd been with me, but I settled for a small fist of victory. I looked around to make sure I was alone out here, and stopped dead when Stark said he had to get more information from "him." There was grumbling and sounds of movement, and I risked a look. One of the men opened a walk in refrigerator and emerged dragging an individual. Who looked a lot like an unwashed, unshaven, cold Tony Stark. My jaw gaped. I took out my cell and texted Steve, telling him to pick up friends and come quietly to this address. Right now. Then I started recording the conversation, which consisted of the guy in the suit slapping the guy who probably was Tony and demanding access codes to protected files. Ugh, too many Tonys. But it would explain a lot why Tony had turned into an enormous total dick. I listened as they started to beat him up. Steve was on his way, but I worried that he might not be in time. Things were devolving pretty fast in there. I checked; my license to carry concealed was only good for New York, and we were in New Jersey. I was going to have to go in there with my quarterstaff and urumi. I carefully tried the door. Locked. I took a deep breath, backed up a bit, and got a little momentum before crashing through the window in the accepted heroic manner.

Except that I'd never practiced this and it wasn't a movie. I tripped on the window frame and went sprawling. My ungraceful entrance drew all eyes to me and I staggered to my feet, ripping the urumi off my belt and getting it to sing. The two men and women were easy to take down, but the Tony in the suit was a different matter. Damn, some of those weapons in that damned thing smarted. I finally ran at him and tipped him over backward, then started flaying at one spot hoping to break through the inner and outer skins. The guy in the suit struggled for a moment like a turtle on its back, but as he managed to roll on his side, I knew I was in trouble.

I started as an object was flung with considerable force, skimming past my face with only a couple of inches to spare. I nearly melted. Backup.

More backup arrived in the form of Sam, Wanda, Natalia, and Hawkeye with the quinjet. Steve was trying to bash in the suit with his shield and it was rough going. Wanda went over and almost immediately, the Tony in the suit went limp. Sam went over to the smelly Tony and started to check him out. Steve and Natalia went to check on the other three, but they were down. There was blood everywhere, red and green. Like a horror movie Christmas, only about half as appealing and festive. Steve strolled up.

"I'm dying for an explanation for this," he said conversationally, swinging his shield into place on his back.

"I'm interested in hearing this too," Sam called as Clint brought medical supplies from the jet to him. "Speak up."

"Well, I was at my lawyers and when I came out, I saw Iron Man in the sky."

"Which was suspicious because he said he was buried in paperwork," Clint said, and I nodded.

"So I followed him here, heard him talking, then they brought out that Tony and started to try to beat information out of him. I was worried about waiting so I went through the window, and the rest," I gestured around, "is as you see."

"Why were you at a lawyer?" Natalia asked. "Is that why you were down in the clinic today?" I frowned at her.

"You were down in the clinic?" Steve said tensely, stepping closer.

"X-rays show that that the little organs in my brain are shriveling," I said, looking at him intently. He looked suspicious, then looked at me through narrowed eyes.

"Are they," he stated. It wasn't a question.

"So the doctor can swear under oath," I said calmly, and he rubbed his eyes and stepped back. The others looked to have their suspicions, but nobody said anything.

"The lawyers?" Clint prodded, and I explained about the lawsuit, which required additional explanations as well. Sam had Tony sitting up by the end of that.

"Are you sure those officers were real?" Sam asked logically, and I shrugged.

"Not now, but I'm betting the Army will make finding out a priority with the public embarrassment they're going to get. I'm as guilty as anybody about relaxing too much with the defeat of the aliens. I was too quick to accept that they were legitimate without undeniable proof."

"Yeah, It didn't occur to me that Tony was being anything more than a jackass lately," Clint said, grunting as he helped human Tony to his feet. Sirens grew closer. "I mean, yeah, they impersonated Cap here that one time, but they kidnapped Stark and held him for some time. "

"Darn," I said. "I was hoping to be done here." Steve smirked at me and patted my shoulder. then started brushing at glass fragments that were caught in my clothing. His eyes lit up and I knew he'd figured it out.

"So tell me again about how you jumped through the window," he said, hand freezing as he realized he was brushing off my boob and blushing a bit. I started to flick off the fragments instead.

"Well, I thought I'd just jump through the window; it was single pane. But my foot caught on the casing and I sort of fell in instead. Worst entrance by a hero ever," I said on a sigh. When Steve started to laugh, the others did too.

"Somehow I missed that," Tony muttered. Red and blue lights flickered urgently, and the police burst into the area. In short order, the competent cops had the four Skrulls in custody, and the one that looked like Tony was pried out of the suit and placed in the back of the squad car. Wanda let go of his mind and he slumped. I turned back to the activity inside. My story was pretty brief, and I forwarded the conversation I'd recorded from my phone to the police. The others were done before I was and headed out to the quinjet with Tony, who needed to get checked out in the clinic. The cops agreed to a brief statement from him and he could go in for a more detailed explanation tomorrow. The rest of us could come in and sign statements then, too. Steve stayed behind until I was done and we walked out to my car, leaving the police to shut everything up.

"Thanks for riding to my rescue," I said as we walked. He smiled.

"Always happy to help," he said cheerfully. "You seem to have either bad luck or really good luck. We got lucky tonight."

"I can't wait to find out how long they held Stark," I said. "I hope that it happened before he turned into a complete jerk so I don't have to actually blame him. It's hard to keep track of whether I need to be mad at him or not."

He burst out laughing. "It's been a long day," he said, chortling.

We got to the car and drove home. Brooklyn was a ways away, even with the light traffic this late at night. When we finally arrived, I pulled out my phone and sent a mass Avengers text, saying I was going to be late the next morning.

"Sleeping in?" Steve asked, and I nodded, suppressing a yawn. I locked the doors behind us and we had to walk a bit; streetside parking was mostly full.

"Would you go on a date with me?" I asked suddenly, trying not to overthink and ruin it as we arrived at my gate.

"Sweetheart, I'd go anywhere with you," he said. "But are you sure that's what you really want?"

I pulled his head down for a scorching kiss. "No, what I really want is you in my bed. But usually there's a one-date minimum for that."

"I don't want you to have to wait til date night," he mumbled, grinning, going for a second kiss that curled my toes.

There was a brief delay in the house while I made sure all of the dogs had food and water and treats and spent some time with them, then Sigurd bumped my hip with his head and I got the impression of an approving smirk. I took Steve's hand and pulled him upstairs.


	48. Making progress

I woke up, relaxed, happy, and exhausted, entwined with Steve. He rolled me onto my back and slid into me. "I think it's a good time to let you know that I want to win you back," he gasped as we moved together. "You're the only woman for me, and I want to be the only man for you. I'm determined to show you. Persuade you. Fuck you boneless to remind you how good we are together." He startled me into a laugh. "And while I have you in a position you don't want to get away from, I'd like to point out that when Tony persuaded me both to try the treatment and not tell you, I was starting to be affected by the onset of dementia. That timing's documented in my medical record."

I gasped for breath, then rolled him over so I was on top. "I hate it when you make me be rational," I panted as he ran his hands up my body. 

"Doesn't happen often. I'm not trying to blackmail you into anything," he protested, breathing hard. "I'm just announcing my intentions. Stating a fact or two. I'd like to take you out, have a nice meal. Do something clothed, in public. And I suppose that if you insist, we could get naked after. Don't want to blow it by presuming," he gave me a smile. "Although I'm always amenable to being blown."

I started to giggle. Steve usually wasn't playful, and I liked it. Afterward, I reluctantly dismounted and started to get up. "Don't go, sweetheart," he protested. "I'll be ready to go again soon." He smoothed his hand over my thigh.

"I know," I said with a sigh. "It's why I didn't actually sleep last night. But we have meetings. I've got work, and then there's Tony to deal with."

He flung his arm over his eyes. "I don't wanna."

"Well, you're welcome to stay if you want, but I gotta get up. And you know if you don't show up, people will come looking for you." I held out my hand. "If you get up, we can shower together. And I'll go out with you." It was really flattering how fast he jumped out of bed.

We got breakfast on the go after picking up Bucky, who patted us on the heads paternally, and we went over to New Jersey first to sign our statements, then went to the tower. Sam told us that Tony was talking to the police in the conference room. There wasn't much to be done until they were done, so Cap called for an Avengers meeting at five, and I went off to the store; Pietro and Wanda came with me. 

They opened the store and I started work. Pietro mentioned our lack of holiday gift wrap, and I sent Wanda out to get something nice. She returned with a couple of rolls of satisfyingly heavy gold and silver metallic paper and bags of red elastic loops with holly sprigs on them that could be slid over the corners of the jewelry boxes for a quick and easy decoration. "Perfect," I said, and she smiled, pleased. I spent my time making more of the little needle vials; we'd sold the remaining three with the first two customers of the day and I couldn't keep up with demand. I had to place a rush order for more of the tubing and rods.

I knew that Matt had filed the lawsuit; he'd texted me as soon as it was done. It was afternoon before the press found out, and I told them I'd have a statement after the store was closed. Foggy had prepared a statement for me and I read it, made a couple small changes--texting him to be sure they were ok to add--and printed it out to read at the press conference.

At the appointed time, I stood on the steps outside and read the statement. There were questions, of which I took a few, trying to emphasize that the lawsuit was the only weapon I had to make sure that I and other supers were treated fairly. There were good questions and dumb ones, but the worst question came from some yahoo who suggested that it was my duty as an American to provide the government with all the help I could. "Including letting them slice through my brain in what would be an illegal, unethical surgery?" I asked in disbelief, and another reporter asked about that.

"My doctor told me that surgery in that area for any reason would mean going through the parts of my brain that involve memory and personality, among other functions. I don't think a government--or in this case, specifically the military, have any right to destroy who I am as a person." I felt tears pool in my eyes. "It would take away everything that makes me who I am. All my education. The memories of my mom and grandparents. All my experiences. That terrifies me. I would effectively not exist anymore. All the experiences, my determination, my idealism that make Poppy real and willing to help would vanish." The reporters started murmuring, and that pretty much marked the end of the press conference.

Wanda and Pietro joined me and the dogs as we walked to the tower. We didn't talk about the press conference, for which I was grateful. It was just stuff about the store, and Wanda volunteered to cut the pieces to construct the needle kits. This brought up Pietro's competitive instincts, and soon they had pretty much volunteered to learn how to construct the kits themselves. We agreed to go in early the next day for lessons. That meant I could go back to the jewelry, which made me happy.

When we got to the tower, there was enough time for us to go suit up before we assembled on a dais in the lobby. We listened as Steve explained the situation and Tony told the story; he'd been abducted on the street two days after the battle, taken to New Jersey, and kept drugged and locked in the walk-in refrigerator to prevent his escape. The refrigerator hadn't been operating, but it still hadn't been warm, and I felt a little sorry for him. The Skrulls had interrogated him with drugs of their own that allowed the imposter to assume his his identity almost seamlessly. Steve explained the rescue, and the questions began. One reporters demanded that Steve prove he wasn't a Skrull, and Steve balked. I knew it was just because of his dislike of needles and stepped up immediately, tugging off his glove. "Don't be a baby," I chided him gently, and it worked, he stiffened his spine and let me poke the side of his finger. I patted off the droplet of blood with a kleenex and showed the reporters, then did the same for myself, and passed out the little lancets so everybody could show that they weren't imposters. Nobody complained, and the press conference continued.

I kept my face respectful, but let my mind drift to other matters until I heard a reporter ask if HYDRA cells were working with the aliens. "We haven't heard anything like that," Steve said. "The aliens would treat them the same as the rest of us, as resources to be exploited." The next reporter asked the stupidest question of the day, asking if Cap was HYDRA and covering up. The question startled me so much that I burst out laughing. Sigurd flopped over on his side as if the question was just too ridiculous to endure. Then Bucky started to guffaw, and it spread among the Avengers. Bucky stepped up to the microphone.

"This guy has dedicated his life to fighting bullies of every stripe," he said, clapping Steve's shoulder with his remaining hand. I really needed to get his arm made. "HYDRA was worse than the thugs of the Third Reich, and he has done everything possible to take them down. That's the stupidest, most insulting thing I think I've ever heard." The other reporters moved away from the idiot one as if unwilling to risk associating themselves with him under the glare of the Winter Soldier. I stepped up beside Bucky, and the rest of the Avengers followed suit. We were united against stupidity. That could be our team slogan. Well, maybe not. We did a lot of dumb things ourselves. Outside stupidity, maybe.

We got through the press conference without any further unpleasantness, and I went upstairs to divest myself of my suit. Steve was waiting when I came out with an offer for dinner. Stark wants to talk to you later," he said, "so the activity part of the evening has to be deferred to a later date." I agreed, and we had a nice dinner, followed by a little stroll and some ice cream before returning to the tower. I had to stop by for my scan and got an appointment for the next day. They wanted to monitor the progression closely. Steve didn't say a word about any of it.

Tony was waiting for us in the conference room, watching video of the press conference earlier. You could clearly hear me admonish him, whoops. But it was cute how he immediately sucked it up and stood with perfect posture and bearing, every inch the Sentinel of Liberty. Until his finger got poked, when he winced. Aw. Tony clicked it off.

"So I wanted to thank you for rescuing me last night and apologize for whatever my doppelganger did to offend you," Tony said.

"Well, I'm not clear exactly what he did and what you did," I said, dropping into a chair. "Perhaps you could clarify. Was it you who alerted the military about me? Got the government to tighten restrictions on street-level heroes? Because whoever did that needs to have his nuts in a vise in revenge."

"I was talking to the authorities about the street-level heroes being on teams for defense when we're attacked, not permanently," he said quickly. "Everything else was him." he said the last word with such venom that I started to believe him. "I would have never turned you over to be sliced and diced, Emma." He shivered suddenly. "Fuck this. I'm always cold." He called on the tower AI to boost the temperature in the room.

"Aw, stop complaining," Steve said, looking complacent. "You weren't even frozen." Tony rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"It's not a competition," I said hurriedly, before they could start batting at each other. "Tony, get a sweater if you're cold. Steve, stop baiting him. And I accept your apology," I said, rather grudgingly. I really wanted to blame him, because he was here and it had been his authority and face that had gotten things authorized.

Tony smirked a little. "So... I wanted to ask what you wanted to do now. The government will back down. The military will be in full CYA mode. Are you still going to stay with the Avengers?"

I shrugged. "For emergency purposes, certainly. For the rest of the time... I don't know, Tony. Being a street-level hero is a much better fit for me."

"You could prowl the rooftops as an Avenger if you want," Tony said. "There's no reason why you can't tailor your duties to what you do best. And frankly, we miss you in the meetings. The blood draw thing was genius."

"I'll think about it," I said after a long pause. I would too, but right now I wanted to go home, play with the dogs a little, then get naked with Steve for sexyfuntimes. And sleep. I really needed to start sleeping.

"All I'm asking,' Tony said, slapping the table. When I stood up, Steve did too, and we exited the room. Bucky had already gone home and I worried that I was taking Steve away when he needed his friend's support.

"He's doing a lot better," Steve said as we drove back. "He hasn't had those violent nightmares for a month. His therapy is going really well. He's actually going to start seeing a sex therapist next week too, he's all screwed up because of the things they made him do." There wasn't any judgement in his voice, just pleasure that Bucky was getting help. "I think I'm actually getting under foot. I was going to bring up moving back to the tower soon."

"Maybe you could hold off on that," I said, smiling. He took my hand and squeezed.

When we got to the house, only the big dogs were there. There was a note from Bucky that said he'd taken the little dogs home with him. I gave Sigurd and Torburn their treats and they made themselves scarce. "I actually do need to get some sleep tonight," I said breathlessly as the clothes started to come off. Steve just laughed and it took awhile to get up the stairs to the bed.

And yes, I did get a few hours of sleep.


	49. End of year

I hastily set up a furnace in the back yard so that I could make the alloy for Bucky's arm. Samuel had also sent along a form that had arrived a couple days after the delivery of the vibranium. What he'd done was a 3D mapping of Bucky's right arm and shoulder, then made a mirror-image copy, reduced the size slightly to accommodate the metal, then had it printed out. It enabled me to make his arm like a glove that slipped over the form and would be as close to perfectly symmetrical as possible. While I was at it, I made two arms, in case he did something stupid like punching an alien jet again, although the second arm was just the form. I was sure that Samuel would want to level up on the electronics until it was indistinguishable from Bucky's organic arm. Then maybe make it better. We had a couple of surprises, too. Plus there was a sensory net; think a fabric much finer than the tulle used to fluff out skirts. This really was a glove; once I very carefully slid it over the arm, I fused the metal between the sensors to the arm. It used something like a WiFi signal to transmit the data from the sensors to connectors inside the arm. Then there was an electroconductive liquid that the arm had to be dipped into repeatedly to both protect the sensors and to provide an adequately thick coating. I knew it was done when the surface was all level. The coating provided a matte surface that also didn't conduct heat very well, so the metal didn't heat up in the sun any more than skin would. Samuel had supplied me with "fingerprints;" reverse versions of the friction ridges on Bucky's right hand and palm. I applied these; they would allow for an improved ability to pick up things. Fingerprints: they're not just for identification. With every iteration, hooking up the chipsets and wiring got easier and faster.

Four days before Christmas, I presented Bucky with his new arm. I used my laptop to Skype Samuel, and we all waited in anticipation as I carefully attached the arm after snapping the connectors together. We watched breathlessly as Bucky started to move the hand and arm, grinning broadly as he did. Samuel had sent along some gizmos to precisely measure function in the hand and help Bucky calibrate his grip strength to his other hand. There were sensory tests; he giggled when I ran a feather on the inside of his bicep and made a face at the ice cube test. He reported sensations very close to what he felt with his organic arm, except for feeling air currents; there for some reason, the artificial arm tested much better sensitivity. There was another version of the disabling feature I'd used when he'd had the nightmares, then the fun things. If he moved his pinky finger a certain way, the tip opened up for a powerful LED flashlight. It didn't protrude, the light was positioned very close to the end and ran on the energy produced by his body. A movement that immobilized the middle finger and opened the top there as well concealed a taser, and Samuel had sent along a whole boxful of replacement cartridges. This was connected to a next-gen battery that was recharged over time with the same energy that powered his flashlight. The index finger had a small switchblade; it telescoped into itself so the finger joints all had full articulation and could punch through the end of the finger if necessary, although obviously, that wasn't the optimal solution. The thumb had a compartment for storage of something small. Bucky was thrilled with the additional features.

I gave Batman a set of cufflinks that had a bold design in enamel; the decorative element were disks concealing a tracking device so that even if he was Bruce Wayne, professional billionaire, he could still drop a tracker into a pocket or briefcase of somebody suspicious to follow up with later. I made Batgirl a pendant that looked like solid silver but which contained a USB drive; she'd said she liked computers. I sent that along with a pendant for Selina. I also had a small gift for Deadpool. I sent presents to my non-hero friends like Pepper and May.

Christmas morning, Bucky and Steve came over to exchange presents. Steve didn't sleep over on nights when I patrolled or he was going to be late. Sometimes he even stayed up at the tower. I was still plagued by nightmares, and they were worse when he wasn't snuggled up beside me, but I didn't want to be greedy. I'd gotten Bucky a lambswool mattress pad in a (not so stealthy) bid to make his bed more comfortable. It really bothered me for some reason that his bed was so hard. It would also make him warmer; his down comforter was plenty warm, but it seemed he felt colder when he was under stress or in la negative state of mind. For Steve, I'd gotten some leather-bound sketchbooks and an assortment of pens, pencils, and erasers.

Bucky started laughing when he opened his present. "I have the receipt if you don't like it," I said. He unzipped the plastic case it was in and touched it, then put his hand between two layers.

"This might be ok," he said thoughtfully, and after another couple of minutes, he set it aside to open Steve's gift. He'd given his best friend a long leather jacket and gloves lined with a super high tech insulating fabric that kept you toasty without adding bulk.

"We did not collaborate," Steve said, holding up his hands. Bucky grinned back and tried the gloves on. I was a little worried for the metal hand, but the fit was good.

Bucky gave Steve watercolor paper and pans of watercolors and a selection of brushes. For me, he'd had the original Poppy jacket repaired, a kevlar lining installed between the leather and a new zip-out plum silk insulated lining. It was wonderful, and I snuggled up to his side and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Steve gave me diamond solitaire earrings with pearl and rhodolite garnet jackets. "It's kind of strange to give jewelry to a jeweler," he said nervously, "but they were pretty." I leaned over Bucky's lap to give him a kiss as a down payment for a later, more in-depth thank you. The dogs hadn't been forgotten, either, with treats and new collars and toys. We watched football and snacked until it was time to go up to the tower. I gave nice, safe gifts to everybody but Pete; I gave him the most powerful laptop I could find for a present he could show to May, then for a private present, I gave him new components for his web shooters that would prevent clogging. That had been part of the reason he'd fallen at the battle at the tower, some of the ash had gotten into the mechanism, just enough to foul it a little. Loki showed up with Thor and I took the opportunity to take him aside and thank him once again for the pendant. It had fooled the x-rays completely and most importantly, nobody who had reason to suspect anything different said anything. The military had requested my medical records--what was left of them after that unfortunate hacking--so they'd have exactly the same images that my doctor had. We had dinner and dessert, then we went home. Steve stayed with me. He wanted to try his new sketching supplies and I wanted to thank him for my earrings.

The next morning featured an uncharacteristically late start. Bucky didn't show up, we had to go fetch him. He was still in bed. I couldn't even see him; he was a lump under the comforter. "Buck," Steve said patiently. No reply. "Buck, come on, get up," he said, a little less patiently. Then he poked the lump, which withdrew.

"No," said the lump. I was getting concerned by then, and Steve, a slight frown on his face, flipped the comforter back. As he did so, a considerable amount of heat that had been held in by the comforter was released, Bucky shot upright and began swearing, and I started to laugh. Still swearing, Bucky headed for the bathroom, and Steve sat down, bemused. Then he put his hand where Bucky had been lying and his eyebrows raised. Bucky had evidently made the bed with the new mattress pad. Steve draped the duvet over his shoulders and contemplated.

"This is really nice," he said. I leaned against the wall and smiled. "Why don't we have one of these?" he asked after awhile.

"Because you have a girlfriend, punk," Bucky said crossly, shoving him off the bed and straightening the sheet and comforter before plumping the pillows. They looked new. He smoothed the comforter proprietorially before coming and giving me a hug that lifted me off my feet. "Lose the receipt, doll," he said, releasing me and scuttling to the bureau for a heavy sweater. "That thing is amazing. Best Christmas present ever." Once he was rousted, he moved quickly, and had on his new coat and gloves before we were quite down the stairs behind him. He wound a steel gray cashmere scarf around his neck (present from Tony) and we went outside. It was snowing, the first snowfall in several weeks. It was the first clean snowfall in longer than that, and I kept waiting to see dark sooty streaks. The big dogs enjoyed the snow and cold temperatures while Bucky asked me questions about thread counts in sheets and different fabric types. He'd bought the little dogs coats for winter, and the Scotties frisked along in the wake of the big dogs, who were blazing a trail through parts where the snow hadn't been shoveled yet. Daf didn't really like the snow, and plodded along grimly. Bucky laughed and picked her up. Fortunately, she was small for a Corgi and rode along smugly for some time before he put her down on a clear stretch of pavement. Bucky smiled as he watched their antics.

"Bucky, do you want the dogs?" I asked as we walked along. He was surprised by my question and accidentally walked into a wall. It was endearing to me that the notorious assassin was relaxed enough for a pratfall. I smiled at him and offered the leashes of the Scotties. His hand shook a very little when he took them, and nothing more needed to be said. We continued along, and the big dogs and I split off to go to the store and the little dogs and the BFFs continued uptown to the tower. When Wanda, Pietro, the big dogs, and I showed up for the afternoon briefing, I saw new small dog beds and a fleet of toys in the great room. Bucky'd been busy. Wallace slept on his lap throughout the meeting. After the meeting, Tony gave me some specifications for new engines for an experimental fighter plane that could go into micro gravity, and we all went back the way we came. Bucky also had a bag of food he'd picked up along with new bowls for his house. Torburn was kind of sad I'd given away his friends, but we had a chat when we got home. Bucky had offered to install a dog door so that the sets of dogs could visit, so he could see them whenever he wanted. Sigurd was more positive about it, thinking about the peace and quiet without them. The Scotties were mischievious and active. His communication included the prospect of stretching out in front of a fire, and I told him that I'd get somebody in to fix the chimney. The things I do for my dogs.

Despite Steve's presence, that night I had one of the bad nightmares, triggered, I thought, by the snow. Steve was concerned, despite my assurances that I was dealing with it, not repressing, and the next day I made an appointment with a new therapist. The receptionist recognized my name, and I think she squeezed me in because it came up a lot faster than I thought it would. 

We'd had to go fetch Bucky that morning again; I'd grinned to see the three small dogs having made little wallows for themselves in the comforter. Bucky stuck his head out enough to tell us that he was going to sleep in and he'd see us at the meeting. Bemused, Steve let me pull him down the stairs.

Somehow I wasn't surprised to find that he had a bag with a similar pad in it when we left after the meeting. The next morning, he didn't want to get up either. Sigurd snorted tolerantly, and we walked in by ourselves. Steve proposed an early evening, and we read in bed for a few hours before going to sleep. The next day, the pups and I drove in; I'd been walking to prolong the time I spent with Steve and Bucky, but there wasn't much point to it if they weren't there. The dogs enjoyed riding rather than walking; despite their booties to protect their paws from deicers and ice, we were in a cold snap that meant that the snow wasn't as fun as it had been. I got a call a couple hours later from an exasperated Tony, asking why Steve wasn't answering his phone, and he blasted me for spoiling the boys. I just smiled, let him rant, and hung up.

As we snuggled that night, Steve ruefully said Tony'd unloaded on him and that he'd be coming in with me the next day. He kissed my shoulder. "When I was growing up, we didn't have a lot, Mom did the best she could so winter nights were cold, but we didn't freeze. Then when I was in the Army, I was usually warm, and I thought that was good, and I was really comfortable after I got out of the ice, especially when we were married. But there's a difference. It's not even just the luxury of the nice sheets and the quality of everything. I've never seen Bucky like he is. He's always been up and at 'em because his folks didn't have much more than my mom and I did. But he said that he could forget he was ever cold. And it's true; this is so cozy and warm that I can't really remember what it was like when I thought I was freezing to death. It's also knowing that despite everything, you care enough not just to make sure we're comfortable, but... I don't know. That we're cared for. And it's not like I ever felt like you didn't love me and care for me before, because you did, and you showed me in a thousand different ways. The difference is with me. I know it, all the way through, because I've been without it. And I can see it for the first time with Bucky, because he's never really had that much care and concern. His mom would have worried about the nightmares and done what she could, but you made him get help and you stayed with him when he would have just given up. You do it because he's Bucky, not because he's my friend. It doesn't feel right to thank you because that implies you were doing it for a reason, or for...an exterior purpose, I guess. And I think that the only reason you did it was because it felt right to you. Like offering the dogs when he was ready for them and because he needs something to care for, not because you wanted to get rid of them or as some kind of charity thing. So I just want you to know that I've noticed it all. And I'm grateful."

What do you say to that? "Don't make me out to be better than I am, Steve," I said eventually. "It might have been nice things to do, but it makes me feel good to make sure that he's cared for. He deserves it, and it's a pleasure to help." I let out a long breath and played with his hair. "As for you...you're just you." He laced our fingers.

"Peggy was the first woman to ever see me, even when I was scrawny, but she was pretty busy whipping me into shape and showing...I don't know. She loved me, but with her, she was so determined and so driven. She had to be, a woman at that time, in that line of work. But if I hadn't gone into the ice, it wouldn't have been an easy relationship. I don't think she ever really understood exactly why Bucky was so important to me. She respected his skills and abilities, but I don't know that she ever really liked him. I think that ultimately, I would have had to make a choice between the two of them. And he would have made it easy for me and eased away. You understand."

"I'm also older than she was at the time, with more life experience, different life experience," I pointed out. "And it's because of women like her, the trailblazers, that it's easier for me. We're different people in different times. When I was younger, I probably would have felt threatened by your friendship, because you're so tight that I can see where a woman might feel there isn't room for her there. But there is." 

"I don't deserve you," he said.

"Maybe, maybe not," I said, winking, teasing him a little. "But you've got me, anyway." I felt a little fragile saying that. But I could wait, waiting for the next shoe to drop, the next crisis, the next mortal wound--and we've both had them--never quite getting past the past. Or I could give him another chance and the opportunity to have a new start, both of us older and wiser. I considered him, snuggled under the duvet, and smiled.


	50. Party time

Mid-January, there was a fancy dress party at the Met, a fundraiser to help small businesses that had been negatively impacted by the alien incursion. The powers behind it--Bruce included--thought to make these in the form of very low-interest loans, since we could be pretty much assured that it would happen again. The loans were to be made to the worst-off businesses who had been doing well before and keep them going until customers picked up again. Some would go under, but the hope was that we could rescue more. 

A lot of the heavy-hitter superheroes were attending, in costume, to talk with the guests and keep them focused on the problem. Steve, Superman, Wonder Woman, some of the more charming and recognizable X-men, and Thor were coming. Tony had been given a choice and had elected to show up as Iron Man. He was still bringing his checkbook, though. There wasn't much difference between him and his alter ego, anyway, just whether or not he was in the suit. Bruce was coming at himself, not that anybody had really expected Batman to show up. The other Avengers were looking forward to the night off.

I'd found a Charles James dress at an auction I'd gone to with Pepper. It had a dark gray velvet bodice with architectural sleeves and buttons up the front and a silver silk satin skirt, held out by the almost-panniers that the designer had used a lot. With it, I had made a choker, an extravagance of pearls and diamonds, pink garnets, and amethysts at the center and complimentary amethyst and diamond earrings. The big seller these days in the city in formal dresses were the slip-type that I'd worn to the opening of my store, and this would certainly stand out. Plus it was warmer than a silk slip. Loki loved it and told me how to do my hair and what makeup to wear. Then he found me stylists to take care of it. He was going incognito.

Pepper and I went together, her husband was out of town. She was wearing an Alexander McQueen gown from the latest collection. It was kind of wearing her, but she loved it, and we chatted happily as we were driven to the event at the museum. My skirt required careful handling, so we'd gotten a limousine, and Pepper had a little steamer to ease the wrinkles in our dresses from sitting. There were a few intrepid photographers outside the museum, but nobody minded as we hurried inside. It was bitter cold and we only had elegant, not so warm stoles. The rest of the press was inside, where reporters asked what we were wearing and took our pictures. Once inside, we accepted champagne from a waiter and mingled, Pepper introducing me to people I didn't know. I spoke briefly with Loki, who was attracting a group of admirers. We'd been there almost an hour, listening to music from a string quartet and talking, when finally Bruce got up in front of a microphone. He spoke briefly about our purpose this evening, and introduced the honored guests, the superheroes. This was interesting and novel, and there was a lot of genuine applause as the well-known heroes stepped out in costume. They all spoke briefly, ending with Iron Man and Captain America, who sort of tag-teamed their speech, tugging at heartstrings (Steve) and going for laughs (Tony). Then Tony waved a check, handing it to Bruce, and urged us to be generous. When other members of the committee approached us, I pulled out a check with a sizeable donation.

"It was clever of Bruce to collect checks tonight rather than just taking pledges," Pepper murmured as she passed over a check of her own.

"Get the money fast, before anybody has the opportunity to cheap out," I said quietly, and we laughed. The heroes were circulating through the crowd, and Steve made his way over to me quickly, giving me a careful kiss to avoid smudging my makeup. I gave him a fast pep talk, and he squared his broad shoulders and plunged into the crowd. All the heroes made a point of coming over to greet me, which was really nice. This time I got to introduce Pepper to the ones she didn't know. Once they'd made the rounds and the checks were being totalled, they were encouraged to relax and have fun as well. They didn't lack for people to talk to. Tony disappeared briefly and came back in a tuxedo. Bruce announced that we'd raised over five million dollars tonight, and there was a round of applause. Pepper had turned away to speak with some friends when Bruce came over to me. He was tacturn as usual, although his date more than made up for it. I suppressed my laughter as I greeted Selina, beautiful in vintage Valentino and an exquisite strand of Tahitian pearls. She touched my collar gently and complimented my dress. Pepper turned back and was introduced to Selina, then we were joined by Tony and Constance (I tried to keep a pleasant expression on my face.) There was some chatting, then I turned at a hand on my waist. Steve. I seized my opportunity and murmured an excuse before taking his arm and guiding him away. The lobby was deserted, just at present.

"Whew," I said, fanning myself. Steve joined me looking out the doors at the far side. Light snow was falling.

"You're so beautiful tonight," he said, brushing his fingers over my shoulder. "Nobody looks as glamorous as you."

"You say the sweetest things," I said. "You did a great job back there."

He shrugged uncomfortably. "It's not like I don't have practice getting people to chip in for the cause."

"I'm surprised Tony didn't work that in," I said, envisioning a star-spangled finale.

"I threatened to boycott if he did," he said, grinning. I ran my fingers down his arm.

"I've got a question for you," I said, and he instantly looked attentive.

"I want to ask you something too," he admitted.

"I wanted to know," I said slowly, "if--"

"I could move in with you," he cut in. I started to laugh.

"That's not what I was going to ask," I said, then smiled. "Yes, I'd like that too. But what I wanted to ask you was..." I rummaged in my little evening purse, smiling triumphantly and pulling something out, holding it up. Then I knelt at his feet, the soft silk satin of my skirt spreading out around me. "Will you marry me?" I asked, looking up at him. He looked stunned, not saying anything.

My hand, holding the ring I'd made for him, started to shake.

He didn't say anything. I dropped my hand and started to stand up, averting my eyes and flushing with embarrassment. I was about to run to the ladies room so I wouldn't be bawling in public, when he put his hands on my upper arms and stepped into the fluffiness of my skirt, putting one arm around my back and tipping up my chin with the other hand. "Oh, sweetheart, of course I will," he murmured, and I almost collapsed. He kissed me instead, which was much better.

"Wayne's looking for you," Tony broke in some time later, speaking to Steve. "Can the PDA, get this wrapped up, and we can all go home."

Steve sighed and kissed me lightly once more before stepping back slightly, curling my hand around the ring. "Can I get a ride home with you?" he asked, and I smiled.

"Of course. I'll go find Pepper." Steve herded Tony back into the party and I took a moment to recover a moment and look around. It didn't look like anybody had seen, which was good. I wanted to talk with Steve before making an announcement.

I found Pepper, who wasn't ready to leave just yet, and we arranged that I'd take the car home and send it back here for her. Then Steve was by my side and went to arrange to have the car brought around as I picked up my stole at the coat check. Steve arranged it over my shoulders, then held the door when the car pulled up at the curb. I trotted down the stairs and tucked myself into the car before it got too snowy. Steve got in, and we talked about little things until we got home.

We waited until we got upstairs before we addressed the proposal again. He turned to me, tugging off his cowl, bouncing up and down. "Can I see it?" he said eagerly. I found it in my purse and handed it to him. It was plain, a polished white gold band with a small flush-set diamond, a knotwork pattern engraved that ran from one side of the diamond to the other. "Did you make this?" he asked, examining it. I nodded. "I love it. It's beautiful." He slid it onto his finger.

"I gotta say I like this new tradition," he said, looking up at me and smiling. We kissed, then broke apart for some clothing removal. His uniform was hard to get in and out of, and I had some layers to take off. He got the zipper down for me, then wrestled with the suit. I had to take the crinoline off first, then slid the dress off and onto a hanger, then waited in my lingerie for Steve, who was eventually delighted to help me with that.

I got up, a little unsteadily, after a little bit, and padded to the bathroom to wash off the makeup; fortunately the makeup artist had used kissproof lipstick, but it was hard to get off. Then I took down my hair and took off the jewelry. I hurried back to bed; it was so cozy. He was sitting up, leaning against the headboard, looking at the ring on his hand and smiling smugly. I put my head on his shoulder and he put his arm around mine.

"So this is what I'm thinking," he said. He told me what he'd like for a wedding, and I smiled and agreed. "And just so you don't feel left out," he said. He pulled out a ring box from under the duvet and handed it to me. It was nice and warm. Inside was a ring with a big freakin' diamond. My eyes were huge as he took it out of the box and put it on my hand.

"It's a new beginning," he said. "This is the last time I'm going to marry you. I want something substantial, so everybody will know you're taken. It's nice and sparkly." I tilted my hand, watching the fire in the diamond.

"It's a lot of diamond," I said. "I'm afraid I'll beat it up. You know how hard I am on my hands." He turned my hand over and kissed my finger where the ring rested.

"It has a separate band," he said. "So you can wear that when you're working or on patrol or something." He shifted around so that I was laying back against his chest, between his legs. We laced our fingers together, and I turned my head so that I could hear his heart beating. "Why do you do that?" he asked. "You've always done that and I never know why."

"Remember when you were so sick, after the Yucatan mission?" I asked, and he nodded. I put my head back down. "When I was monitoring your lungs, I could also hear your heart, and it just kept beating, even when they had you on the ventilator and you couldn't breathe on your own. It was reassuring. It gave me hope that you'd be ok. And ever since, when I haven't been mad at you, I like to listen to your heartbeat." I looked up and saw him squeezing his eyes shut. A tear slid out, and I reached up and brushed it away.

"I've learned my lesson," he said quietly. "No secrets between us, ever again. No holding back." I smiled. "But that's it. I can't count on you giving me yet another chance."

"One of these days I'll wise up," I said, nodding, and he laughed. We talked and planned some more, and then there were no more words.

The next morning, we left the rings at home. We weren't ready to tell anybody just yet, not even Bucky. We did tell him, when he asked how the night went, that Steve was moving in. He grinned at us. "Nice, doll," was all he said.

That afternoon at the meeting, Tony floated holding a conference here, a gathering of the supers and the humans who were all working on global defenses. It sounded like a pretty good idea; meet for a couple of days, inform the press about our progress, and there was a lot of it. Not surprisingly, asking us was more of a formality rather than a real request for input. It was already scheduled for the next week.

After the meeting, I rounded up the twins and proposed that we close the store so that we could devote our attention to the meeting, then take some time off. They were excited; it was an easy sell. Steve and I boxed up some of his things, and on the way home, we stopped by the store so I could post a sign saying that we would be closed for the next ten days. It was a good time, far enough ahead of Valentine's day that we wouldn't lose a lot of sales. I mentally revised my schedule so I could come in a couple days toward the end to make some items for that holiday.

I was looking forward to the break.


	51. Going public

A few days later, I was in the enviable position of sleeping in while Steve got up and about. Eventually, I hauled myself out of bed. I was meeting Bruce at the store; he wanted to make a special purchase, and there were other things to do as well. After considerable deliberation, I chose a Lilli Ann suit that had belonged to my grandmother. Its original ivory color never looked good on me, so I'd had it dyed a vivid periwinkle blue when I inherited it. It fit like a glove. I wanted to look extra good today because this was the day Steve and I were going public with the news of our engagement. Tomorrow was the first day of the conference, and we wanted whatever media attention we got to be overshadowed by more generally important news. I was going to sell Bruce something expensive, then meet Steve and we were going to go to a late lunch.

Bruce bought the diamond and moonstone necklace that Selina had liked so much, had me wrap it while he signed a gift card, and he had me leave it in the safe for her next visit. I put the trinket I'd made for her next burglary in the other safe. No point in over-egging the pudding for her.

I had to hurry to meet Steve, but I was right on time. He and Bucky met me inside City Hall, standing when I walked up to them. "Both of you look so handsome," I said, admiring their suits. Steve always had to get his suitcoats extensively tailored because he was shaped like a human Dorito: very broad through the shoulders, with narrow waist and hips.

"Is somebody going to explain to me what's going on?" Bucky asked plaintively.

The door we were standing beside opened, and a bailiff looked around, smiled, and motioned us in. "How do I look?" I asked him.

"Perfect, doll," he said. "But what's happening?" I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Steve and I are getting married," I said, pulling a small bouquet of white tulips out of my bag and taking off my coat. I enjoyed the look of astonishment on his face as Judge Kamil walked into the anteroom of her chambers and greeted us. Steve and I had both testified in her court and she was tough, fair, and well-respected. She adjusted her headscarf and asked for our marriage license, which we had gotten the day before. It was precisely twenty-four hours later, the earliest we could get married.

"I'm seeing a trend in married couples that they check their blood to confirm that they're both humans," she said. "Is that something you want to do? It's not a requirement, but given that you're both prominent citizens, and also given what happened to Mr Stark, you may wish to." We looked at each other and Steve shrugged. We decided to go ahead and do it; what could it hurt, and this way the judge would be sure she was marrying the actual people she thought she was. As usual, Steve was hesitant about sticking himself, so I did it for him, we showed the judge, the bailiff, and Bucky, and wiped off the blood. I kissed his small wound better, and we turned to the judge for the brief ceremony. I'd offered to make him a wedding ring that was different from his engagement ring, but he said he couldn't imagine anything he would like more, so when the time came, I slid that onto his finger with a deep feeling of relief. The band of my wedding ring was very similar to the engagement ring, having the same pierced floral design. After the kiss, the judge, her bailiff, and Bucky congratulated us and I gave her my tulips. Steve helped me on with my coat and we stepped out into the busy hall.

"Whew," I said. "I'm so relieved."

"I'm taking you to lunch to celebrate," Bucky said, grinning ear to ear. "Then you're going to tell me exactly how this happened."

We went to one of the best restaurants in the city; we didn't have a reservation, but the appearance of three Avengers at the podium by the door got us a table by the windows in short order. Bucky waited until we'd given our order, adding on a bottle of champagne, before peppering us with questions, ending with, "Last time we talked about this, Stevie, you were still dithering endlessly."

Steve smirked smugly. "That's because I didn't. She proposed to me." He puffed his impressive chest out a little, and the server, freshly returned to us with the wine, gasped.

I smiled at him. "We just got married and came here to celebrate with a special lunch. I know this is kind of news, but I'd consider it a personal favor if you could hold on to the information until we leave." The server nodded convulsively, then asked if he could have our autographs. I signed "Emma Harrington-Rogers" in large script. He popped the cork with a flourish and filled our flutes before retreating.

"It was the night of that fundraiser at the museum," I told Bucky. He blinked.

"Health and happiness to the two people I love most in the world," he said, and we touched glasses, the crystal chiming clearly. I reached over and squeezed his hand as I sipped. "I wish I'd gone now, but at the time I was just relieved I wasn't required to play dress up and be social."

"I waited until he'd done his job, then we found a place that was deserted at the time," I said. "I told him that I had a question for him, and he asked if he could move in." I rolled my eyes and Bucky started to laugh. Steve looked a little sheepish, and I reached over for his hand. "Then I knelt before him and asked him to marry me. I had his ring and everything."

"I saw that dress you were wearing in pictures in the paper," Bucky said. "You knelt in that?" He started to laugh harder.

"It was a lot easier than it would have been in a straighter skirt," I said. "But here's the thing. He didn't answer." Bucky's laughter cut off abruptly and he stared at Steve, looking between us in bewilderment. "He just looked at me, and I thought I'd been precipitous and he was trying to figure out a nice way to say no."

"It was just because I was so surprised," Steve assured me. "It was a real shock," he explained to his friend. "You don't expect that. Here was this gorgeous woman on her knees at my feet. With a ring. It took me a moment."

Bucky rubbed his eyes. "I'd struggled to my feet and was trying to locate the nearest ladies room to cry in before he said anything," I said. Steve groaned. I opened my eyes in mock sadness and shook my head. "It wasn't easy to stand up, what with the three-inch heels and the arthritis in my knees," I confided in Bucky. Yeah, I played that card. The arthritis still wasn't too bad.

Bucky rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to address his best friend. "I know, you don't have to say it," Steve said, holding up his hands. "You don't have to tell that part, sweetheart," he said to me.

"You deserve to be punished for it," I said fondly. "I thought you were going to refuse. It was a terrible moment."

"What were you thinking?" Bucky asked him in exasperation.

"Well, it did cross my mind--very briefly--that she was offering to give me a blow job," he whispered the last two words, and I grinned. The waiter, coming with our salads, nearly dropped them, and Steve turned bright red. Bucky laughed, deep belly laughs. "But I couldn't figure out what the ring was for. And the area wasn't very private, either. It took a few seconds for it to sink in." Bucky nearly fell out of his chair.

"So many jokes," he wheezed.

I grinned and started to eat. "But I did say yes," Steve reminded me. "I did," he insisted to Bucky, who was wiping away tears of mirth.

"Then Tony showed up and spoiled the moment," I continued briskly. "So we left and came home, where he FINALLY looked at the ring."

"It wasn't my finest moment ever," Steve conceded. "But I redeemed myself in the end. I had a ring for her too," he told Bucky. Remembering, I dug it out of my purse and put it on with my wedding band, beaming.

"Let me see," Bucky commanded, and I showed him. He whistled. "I think the Koh-I-Noor is slightly smaller," he twitted his friend, who shook his head and picked up his fork. Then he took off his ring and passed it to Bucky. "Nice. Your work, Emma?" he asked, and I nodded, mouth full of salad. "Top rate, as always," he said, and passed it back to Steve. "You're one lucky bastard," he said. Steve nodded emphatically.

"I know it. I was going to wait longer, show you that I've changed, work hard to rebuild your trust," he said to me. "Fortunately, you had other ideas. I still have work to do, to be worthy." He turned my hand over and kissed the palm. Since his face was right there, I stroked his cheek.

"We both do. Marriage is a lot of work. But worth it."

"Did you have any trouble getting a marriage license?" Bucky asked, eating briskly. "The whole dead, not dead thing didn't interfere?"

"That was a hiccup," Steve conceded. I laughed.

"It was more than a hiccup," I told Bucky. "It was all right for me, you have to list all prior marriages and the date they ended, so I could just show Steve's death certificate. HE had more of a problem." I snickered. "There isn't room on the form for an explanation of how dead isn't always as permanent as you'd think, but the clerk consulted a couple of judges, and they decided that if Steve was dead enough for a certificate, the marriage had ended. We filed an affidavit with the pertinent details, and in the end they thought it would be ok for us to get married again."

Our entrees arrived. "I remembered that last time she just wanted to be married in City Hall and get on with it, and that idea really appealed to me," Steve said, picking up the story. "No fuss, just us, and you as our witness."

"I'm honored," Bucky said sincerely. "I took some pictures back there." He pulled his phone out of his suitcoat's inner pocket and motioned us together. "A few more, so you'll have something to look back on." When the waiter came back to check on us, Steve had him take a picture of the three of us together.

"Wouldn't be the same without you, Buck," he said, leaning over and gripping Bucky's shoulder. I caught that on my own phone. It showed a lifetime's friendship in one gesture.

The waiter cleared the table, then came back with a small iced cake. It had been personalized. "Congratulations Captain and Mrs Rogers."

"Impressive," I said, admiring it, and the waiter preened. The manager came by with another bottle of champagne, on the house, and Steve thanked him for the personal attention. Bucky insisted that we cut the cake together and got pictures of that too. By the time we rolled out of the restaurant, I was definitely buzzed. My metabolism was elevated, but not enough to prevent the effects of a third of two bottles of wine, unlike the boys. 

After lunch, we had to go to a meeting that would go over last-minute details for the upcoming conference. I was feeling mellow enough that I didn't much mind. Bucky drove us in my car. There was a traffic snarl on the way, which gave me enough time to sober up. I felt it would be unprofessional to go to a heroes' meeting tipsy, although it might make the meeting more enjoyable. At the tower, the elevator was chilly. We popped out briefly at the lobby to sign in for the meeting, and it was chilly out there too. The guard caught my shiver and told us that there was some trouble with the heating. Bucky rolled his eyes and the guard smiled, showing us on the security display where maintenance was working on the furnace.

Up in the conference room, it was considerably warmer due to space heaters. Steve helped me off with my coat and hung it up with his. Wanda came over. "Nice suit. You look great. Very...confident."

"Great clothing does that for you. They make you feel confident and powerful." Wanda looked a little doubtful but didn't say anything. "You should try it," I said encouragingly.

"And is there a reason you wanted the boost today?" Natalia inquired, coming up to us. Behind her, I could see Tony come in to start the meeting and didn't bother to repress a certain dramatic flair.

"Yes, actually." I pulled off my gloves and held out my hand. "I got married this afternoon."


	52. The conference

Wanda squealed and hugged me before taking my hand to examine my rings. That drew attention. I looked over at Steve, who looked smug, and winked at him. "How long have you been engaged?" Natalia asked, the faint stunned expression smoothing away. Other Avengers came over to look.

"Couple of days," I said, getting a big hug from Sam, who wanted to know details of the wedding. Steve and Bucky were happy to oblige. It was cute to see them explaining together, taking the story in turns.

"You should have told us first," Tony said, snapping off the words. He looked angry. "This affects all of us."

"I don't see how," I said mildly. "The only people in my marriage are me and Steve. It's not an Avengers situation." And that explanation was also a warning.

"I agree with Tony," Natalia said, not unexpectedly. "You break up again, it affects the team."

I curled my lip at her. "Well, the marriage ended last time because he died and you conspired to keep the treatments he was undergoing from me. If I'd been in on it, we just would have gotten remarried a bit later," I said, horribly pleasant. "And if relationships affect the team, then where was Tony's announcement when he got into his relationship with Constance? For that matter, when were you planning on telling the group that you and Clint are together?"

She looked furious, and for a moment, I feared for my safety. "Told you somebody would notice, Nat," Clint said mildly to her, then leaned around her to kiss my cheek. "Congratulations," he said to me, and moved away.

"How did you know?" she hissed at me.

I gave her a patient, long-suffering look designed to piss her off. It worked. "You're not as subtle as you think you are," I said. Then Tony started to badger her. I walked over to Steve and Bucky, who were now showing the pictures to the others. Scott gave me an awkward, genuinely happy hug and started looking on his cell phone. One of the papers had the news already, with pictures someone had taken in the restaurant. Bucky had made us feed a bite of cake to each other, and one of the pictures showed me licking frosting off Steve's finger and him laughing. It was cute.

"A poll shows that a majority of people responding to the poll think Captain and Mrs America getting married again is a good idea," he said brightly. "Comments: you look happy, your outfit is beautiful, someone wants to know if the cake was good--"

"It was," Bucky said, nodding.

"Apparently they sent a waiter to a nearby bakery for it," Scott continued, reading on. I smiled at Steve. "There's a thread about why you two are together. Consensus is that she seems kinky and he's probably got stamina," he said, flushing. Steve started to laugh. "Er. Then there's a bit about whether Emma here got a bonus extra, unofficial husband with the Winter Soldier, too." Bucky chortled. "Then just opinions about you guys and us in general. Not all positive, but generally, yeah."

"If you're finished with the gossip column, we do have a meeting," Tony said waspishly.

"Lighten up, Tony," Jim said in exasperation.

"He's right, though," Steve said, putting away his phone and adjusting his cuffs. "Sooner we start, the sooner the meeting's over," he said briskly, getting some laughs. Everybody obligingly moved to the table and found seats. I listened with half my attention and sent texts to Loki and Peter, announcing the news.

It took a good couple of hours to get through everything, then the meeting broke up. Steve had a couple of things he had to deal with on his desk, then we left. We had a reservation for the night at one of the best hotels in Manhattan, and our bags were in the car. While we were checking in, I groaned suddenly and Steve looked at me curiously.

"I have to get a new drivers license," I said. "Ugh. The DMV. And the bank, and the..."

"Oh, did you change your name?" the clerk asked me, and I nodded.

"Hyphenated," I confirmed, then smiled up at Steve. "But I also answer to 'Mrs. Rogers.'" I 'd kept my name the first time we'd gotten married, and although he'd said he was fine with it, he was old-fashioned enough that it had bothered him a little, and I didn't mind adding his name to mine. Our wedding had happened so fast that I'd forgotten to tell him. His return smile lit up his face. The clerk issued our key cards with a hearty congratulations, and we took the elevator up to the bridal suite. We ignored the champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries until later, when we ordered room service.

The commenters on the paper's website were right. He did have great stamina, and we didn't sleep much. I woke up in the morning to find myself enveloped by my husband, and smiled. He kissed the back of my neck and grumbled that he felt a little chilly.

"It's warm in the room," I pointed out.

"But the bed isn't warm," he complained.

"If we had the soft warm mattress pad and our duvet, we'd stay in bed all day," I yawned, lacing our fingers together. "And we have the conference today." His hand moved lower on my body. "It's non-negotiable, we have to show up," I said firmly.

"I was a lot more interested in the conference before we got married," he said, sighing. Then we made love quickly, or at least what passed for quick with Steve, then we reluctantly got up and got ready to face the day, getting a hearty breakfast downstairs before checking out. We were even early to the tower. It was expected that the heroes would attend in costume, so we had to do that. It was still a little chilly in the tower and Jim caught me up on the news. One of the HVAC technicians had rigged the system to explode once the temperature reached its optimum point.

"He didn't have experience with the arc reactor technology, though, so it wouldn't have worked even if we hadn't caught it," he said.

"Do we know if the conference was the target or just the tower in general? Was it a human plot or aliens?" I asked.

"We don't know yet," Jim said grimly. "We've got Nat and Clint out looking for him. He rabbited."

"Well, they'll track him down," I said briskly.

"So how did you know they were together?" he asked, diverted momentarily.

"Since I came back to the Avengers, I've made sure I watch things. Because the time that I let my guard down and didn't stay on top of things ended badly for me. So little things added up. Just before the attack on the city, I saw Natalia once in the hall of the residence, the opposite end from her room, but down by Clint's room, with her hair messy. They've always been close, so things like not sitting by each other in meetings--which they've always done, you know if one of them isn't there when we're sitting down at the table, we leave an empty chair by the other one--are also tipoffs." I shrugged. He stared at me.

"You figured it out from stuff like that?" he asked in disbelief.

"Well, unless you actually come across them kissing or having sex or if they mention it, you always have to put it together from clues," I said. "And Natalia is far too wary to risk that happening. Besides, if I'd been wrong, she wouldn't have hesitated to tell me."

"Sometimes you're scary, and it has nothing to do with your pole axe," he said, shaking his head. I wasn't going to mention I'd also got tips on observation and human behavior from Batman. When he wasn't looking to get laid or wrangling the crowd of sidekicks, he was a very fine detective and very insightful. But I guess we're all more clear-eyed about others than ourselves.

We went downstairs to the lobby where the attendees had started to arrive. Batman was already there and introduced me to the mayor and chief of police, then all of them congratulated me on my marriage. Batman looked a little resigned. Batgirl was thrilled and cooed over my ring; we made arrangements to have dinner after the conference and catch up. Dr McCoy introduced me to a passel of NASA scientists and engineers who were working on space craft, and I caught up with Deadpool and Wolverine. As we were speaking, a guy with funky red sunglasses came up and Wolverine's temperament, never sunny, hit a new low. They spoke tersely, then left without a word. "That was Cyclops," Deadpool said, for once serious and disapproving. "Great tactician and strategist, terrible person." My eyebrows raised briefly in surprise. "He shoots laser beams out of his eyes, so never try to take away those stupid-looking glasses," he advised. "He's Professor Xavier's heir apparent, but he and Wolvie don't get along. Best to stay out of the crossfire." Then in an abrupt shift of personality, he told me what I'd been missing on the streets, very entertaining. Then he looked over my shoulder and hastily departed. Wonder Woman and Superman came up to say hello and congratulate me.

It was while I was speaking with them that I was tapped on the shoulder and served with a notice that the complaints I'd filed against Tony and Natalia for the public revelation of my private identity would be heard next week. Looking around, I saw two more servers approaching them with envelopes of their own.

Wonder Woman shook her head. "This will be disruptive, what with everything that we have to address with the conference and the alien threat, but I hope that you will see it through without faltering. We are all dedicated to the public good, and we should not be making it more difficult for our brothers and sisters who wish to remain anonymous." Superman nodded and was about to speak, when Tony stepped up to the podium and told us to find seats. I sat next to Steve and prepared to pay attention.

It wasn't that easy. The first revelation was that a scanner had been invented to distinguish between humans and Skrulls; the technology was based on the mutable properties of their tissues. Right now the scanners were large and would be available for settings facing large numbers of the public, such as entrances at courthouses and sports arenas, but they would be working on miniaturizing them and making them available for individual consumers and smaller businesses. Other technological advances relating to spacecraft followed, which I thought I'd be a lot more interested in, but a lot of the physics and engineering went over my head and the most knowledgeable of the group spoke in an unfortunate monotone. Steve moved his shoulder gently to wake me up. He looked polite and attentive. I wondered groggily where he was getting his energy. Then I looked at his hands. He was playing Candy Crush, but it looked like he was taking notes. I married a clever man.

I sent Peter a summary of the events so far; he was stuck at school, senior year, champing at the bit to graduate and have more freedom. Then I was stuck. I downloaded a Pinterest app and started collecting ideas for gardens, remembering periodically to look up at the speakers as if I were engaged by what they were saying. It was the nice thing to do, after all; nobody wants to look around and see a good chunk of the audience with their attention riveted to their smartphones.

The lecture finally ended and we had an hour for lunch. We grabbed sandwiches and went up to Steve's room in the residence floor for a nap. And actually napped. So refreshing. I told him about the hearing next week and he asked if I wanted him to be there. "I'm always happy to have you with me, but it isn't essential," I said, finger-combing his hair. "I'm not looking to make this a big thing, but I feel that it has to be done. You have to work with them, longer than I will, in all likelihood."

"But you're my wife," he said, tugging me onto his lap. "That's where my ultimate loyalty is."

"Ok," I said. "The panel meets in Albany, so it's just as well that it's on our last day of vacation." Then we had to get up and go back to the meetings. I was glad to see that everybody was enthusiastic about the work we were doing, but wished that they'd summarize a bit better. Then, after the meetings were over for the day, we took down a few more boxes to the car, collected Bucky, and went home. We brought home a rotisserie chicken and vegetables and ate at Bucky's, enjoying the conversation, then we took the things that Steve had in the spare room there down to our house.

We decided to move the guest room back upstairs. Bucky helped haul the furniture up, and I promised him a batch of cookies after the conference was over as a reward. Sigurd and Torburn had spent the night with the little dogs, but were glad to have us back. 

We made it an early night and went up to bed. I was really tired. So much excitement and the boring meeting, and not enough sleep. Steve and I cuddled up under the duvet and he sighed in satisfaction. "I'm so glad you gave Bucky that pad for Christmas. It's such a big difference."

"I was kind of surprised he tried it," I admitted.

"He did because you kept urging him to be more comfortable," he said, putting his arm around me. "He trusts you, and you kept telling he should be comfortable. He was trying to punish himself for the things he's done by not allowing himself to relax and take comfort in his surroundings. But you kept acting like he deserved it, and when you gave him the comforter, he decided it was ok to indulge a little. It made it easier for him to accept the warm pad, and then he got new pillows. And he's having a new mattress delivered day after tomorrow."

"Yay, finally!" I cheered. Then I sobered. "I feel so badly for him. He doesn't need to atone for anything. He couldn't help it. It wasn't his fault. And the aourt martial cleared him, officially. The press covered it extensively and the evidence, including his torture and the methods they used to keep him controlled was heard by everybody."

"I think he's starting to realize it. All he was doing is making himself miserable, and nobody really seems to think that mortification of the flesh is a thing anymore. So he's starting to relax a little now that he's finding out that nobody cares if he's warm and comfortable at night. He seems more cheerful."

"A good night's sleep will do that," I agreed, yawning. "I don't know why my approval means so much to him, though. I haven't known him very long."

"That's part of it, though. Me, he knows I'm not going to be objective. But you're somebody new, he respects you. You've heard the worst and you stood by him. It gives him hope that he's not irredeemable." Steve hesitated. "You're a good woman, with a strong moral judgment who doesn't put up with any nonsense. And you stand up for him, you've befriended him. He wants to live up to your approval of him. I know that if something happens to me, you'll take care of him too, because you're friends independent of me. That's really important to me."

"I admire your loyalty and your friendship. I'm just glad you allow me to be part of it. I'm a latecomer, I know."

"Better late than never," he said.


	53. Birthdays and planning

We got up less-than-enthusiastically the next morning and got a hearty breakfast with Bucky on the way in. I felt more enthusiastic about the meetings after that, and the big dogs came with us today, curious about the different crowd, although I warned them that they'd probably be bored. Torburn showed me how he planned to go upstairs and sleep on Steve's bed if it got too dire.

But at least the morning mingling was fun. I chatted with Batgirl, who was pleased to see the dogs again, and this time we firmed up plans to do something one evening, kind of a girls' night thing. While we were discussing this, Diana wandered our way, listening intently. Supergirl also entered the conversation and since they were both in town for another few days, we agreed to get together at my house for games. I gave out the address, and the other heroes looked excited as they went to mingle with others. Batgirl and I were rather bemused. "I don't suppose Diana does that sort of thing much, being a demigoddess and all," Batgirl said after a bit. I smiled and started to laugh.

"She's so nice and kind. I'd have thought she'd have been kind of remote and judgy," I said. "I was going to suggest Cards Against Humanity, but now I'm not sure." Batgirl laughed too.

"Supergirl would probably have fun with that," she said, "although she's so wide-eyed and enthusiastic I don't know how innocent she is. It's hard meeting other female heroes," she said a little wistfully. "There are a lot of women in the X-Men, but they keep to their team, and it's not always easy to tell if they're going through an evil spell again. They seem to switch sides a lot."

"Selina is the most fun, but that whole burglary thing makes it difficult to pal around," I said, and Batgirl agreed. I was feeling more cheerful as I sat down with Steve for the lectures. He and Bucky were wonderful people, but honestly, women need time with their own kind, and there are issues that are unique to the hero game that are nice to talk about with those who know. I missed the girls' nights that Wanda and Natasha and I had had in Seattle, but times and people change. I texted him about it during the lecture, and he said that he'd go down to Bucky's and watch a hockey game.

In the morning session, we learned about enhanced interrogation techniques for the Skrulls; it was reported that work on a truth serum had borne fruit, making the Skrulls more suggestible to telling the truth. The Army officer flicked a look my way; I ignored it, looking politely attentive. It didn't sound nearly as effective as mine was. There really wasn't an interrogation technique that worked on the Kree. Apparently, even if you beat the hell out of them they wouldn't talk. I wasn't the only one who was disquieted by this--both by the abuse of prisoners and their silence. Murmurs I heard around were upset both by the fact that we couldn't get information from the Kree and by the notion that the good guys were acting like the bad guys. They did have some ammunition they said would take down the Kree more easily, which interested me; it had taken almost a full magazine of hollow-point bullets for me to bring down each Kree, and if that number could be reduced to a few bullets per Kree, I had to admit I'd feel better.

Forge joined Bucky, Steve and me for lunch, asking both Bucky and me questions about the fabrication and use of the arm. He was fascinated by the additional functionalities that Samuel and I had built into the fingertips, particularly the tazer. The dogs ambled into the cafeteria, drawing a lot of attention, stopping to speak with Thor and allowing other heroes to pet them before arriving for lunch. Steve brought them their usual tower lunch--bowls of kibble with a couple of hamburgers crumbled over the tops. Sigurd paused long enough to inform me that Peter was here. "Oh," I breathed out. He was in trouble. He was still supposed to be in school. I started scanning the cafeteria and saw him talking to Pietro. Pietro saw me looking and quailed, pushing Peter over a step or two. Steve, Bucky and Forge looked over to see what put fire in my eyes, and Steve started to laugh.

"Emma, come on. Playing hooky is a time-honored tradition," Bucky said as Peter approached slowly, dragging his feet. "And it's not like the kid is in trouble with his grades."

"Mom, before you say anything, my calculus teacher went home sick and all I have left is study hall, and I don't have any homework," Peter said, trying to defang me.

"I didn't know you had a child," Forge said curiously, looking from me to Spiderman.

"I'm not actually his mother," I said, sighing. Then I scooted over closer to Steve so there'd be room for Peter to draw up a chair.

"She's my mom in the superhero community," Peter said brightly, sitting down. "Congratulations on getting married, Mom, Cap," he said a little awkwardly, handing me a small flat box. He couldn't bring himself to call Steve by his first name. "You guys still coming over tonight?"

"Wouldn't miss it, buddy," Steve said, leaning around me and patting his shoulder as I opened the box. "It's his birthday," he told Forge, who smiled.

"Happy birthday," he said, and excused himself to get to work studying some of the papers that had been presented. When Tony had left the weapons business, Forge had been one of those who had stepped up to fill the gap and he was very interested in the new developments that had been announced during the conference.

The box held a filigree picture frame with a picture from the wedding ceremony, Steve and me just before the kiss. "Oh, honey, this is wonderful."

"I made the frame on the 3D printer at school," he said. "And Mr Barnes emailed me the picture."

"Thank you," I said, and Steve added his thanks too.

"That's impressive work," he said. "It's amazing what a smart kid can accomplish these days." Peter flushed a little.

"Happy birthday, honey," I said, patting his hand. "How's it been so far?"

"Good," he said. He unconsciously touched his mouth. "MJ gave me a kiss." I couldn't help laughing, remembering running across them in an alley. He let out a sigh. "Moooom," he protested. "This time she kissed me, not Spiderman."

"She's a smart girl," I said affectionately. But he didn't seem perky enough. I frowned.

"That football player still giving you trouble?" Steve asked. "I can talk to him, if you'd like."

"I can kick his ass," Bucky offered.

Poor Pete squirmed. "No, thanks. High school is going to be over in just a few months. I can put up with it until then."

"I can contact his parents," I said.

"May did. His dad just laughed at her." Peter scowled. I scowled too.

"Let me know if you change your mind, honey," I said. "I'd be happy to kick his nuts up into his sinuses."

The three males at the table winced and shifted. "That's ok, mom," Peter said hastily. "I'm searching for a non-violent alternative."

"That's a good approach," I approved. "Baffle him with bullshit if all else fails." I knew he wouldn't, though. Pete was smart as a whip, but he lacked a mean streak or sharp tongue that would enable him to make the bully look like a fool. And for some reason, his self-esteem was low. I needed to think of ways to help him develop that crucial trait. It was too bad we didn't have more young heroes in training that he could be in charge of. I wanted to keep him far away from the Batkids, Damian in particular.

We had to go down shortly afterward for the rest of the day's lectures. Pete tracked the engineering much better than I did and I was proud of him when he asked the speaker good questions.

After the lectures, Steve kissed my cheek and hurried off to pick up his present for Peter. May had invited us and Tony for cake, ice cream, and presents. She'd also invited Bucky, but he was getting training with some of the new armament tonight along with other supers who specialized in that. We were bringing his present with us.

Bucky stayed at the tower after the lectures and I went home, picking up dinner. Steve wasn't far behind me and we ate quickly. He still had to wrap his present, and then we had to get to Queens. Tony had arrived before us and was absentmindedly flirting with May. It was habit with him; he was incapable of not trying to charm everybody he came in contact with. We handed our packages to Peter and I went to help May in the kitchen. We chatted as she poked eighteen candles into the cake and I assembled plates and silverware, then I gave her a small box with some earrings in it. "You're an important part of why Peter is such a good kid," I said. "You deserve recognition for that on this birthday." I wasn't trying to suck up, I really meant it. It couldn't have been easy for her to step up when Peter's parents had died. She liked the earrings and put them on immediately, thanking me. Then she lit the candles and we had the refreshments first, one of their traditions. Sweets before presents. I approved. Peter blew out the candles and cut his cake. Then the presents.

May got him clothing and a new calculator he'd been pining for. Tony provided him with a wide variety of components to support Peter's tinkering with the devices he kept bringing home that he'd scavenged, and an iPad. Steve gave him a pocket watch that had belonged to his father; he'd had it reconditioned, the crystal buffed free of scratches, and engraved a message on the back.

"I know watches are on the way out," Steve said awkwardly, 'but--"

"This is awesome, Mr-- Cap," Peter said earnestly, holding it carefully. "It's retro and cool. It's nice to have a way to check the time, especially where I can't bring my phone, like during tests."

"You've got a lot of those coming up," May said fondly. "College, maybe grad school." He grinned at her.

"Gotta get through high school first," he said, and we laughed. It was pretty much a formality at this point.

Bucky had sent over a stand with a high-quality badger bristle shaving brush, soap dish with soap, a double-edged safety razor, and a straight razor with strop. A high-quality tincture and instructions for the best shave rounded out the package. "Wow," Peter said, looking a little overwhelmed, then smiling as he read the card. I read over his shoulder; Bucky had stressed the importance of a close shave both for appearances and while dating, pointing out that the replacement blades for the safety razor were cheaper than disposable razors and gave a good shave if you know what you're doing, and that a straight razor provided the best shave. And it was bad ass. Steve and Bucky were old-fashioned guys, providing Pete initiation into old-fashioned masculinity and good role models.

Mine was last. It was a leather messenger bag, high quality, lightly distressed, that should hold up at least through college, depending on how hard Peter was on it. Inside was an envelope. "It's a treasure map," I said smiling at him. "There are little things at each location and a clue for the next location. I hid them pretty well, so if you're having a hard time finding the envelope, give me a call and I can give you an additional hint." I'd placed them in places where Spiderman would have no trouble reaching them but the casual thief would have difficulty finding.

"How fun!" May said, smiling, and Peter thanked us all.

"It's a little overwhelming," he said, looking at the bounty on the coffee table.

"It's a significant birthday," Steve said. "You're an adult now. Don't forget to register to vote."

Tony, Steve and I departed not long after that. "What did you have engraved on the watch?" I asked Steve.

"The future is yours. Believe," he said.

"That's lovely," I said. He was so getting laid tonight.

"What did you put in the treasure hunt?" Tony asked.

"Some small things. Cuff links, Snickers bars, a really good silk tie and pocket square, mints, stuff like that. My mom used to do those for me around our house when I was a kid. It was always fun." I didn't mention the other component; at each stop, I'd included little letters I'd written for a variety of situations and labeled the envelopes with the situation: when you're depressed, when you're worried, when you're happy, things like that. So when he needed a pat on the back or encouragement, he'd have it without having to ask for it. Plus, the present I'd left in the alley where I'd found him and MJ kissing was a box of condoms. That didn't need to be widely known, but they were good to have on hand.

We split up when we came to Tony's R8; Steve and I were parked farther down.

The next morning we got up reluctantly. "We'll be able to sleep in tomorrow," I said. "I can't wait."

"That'll be nice," Steve said, giving me a kiss. "You might need it after your get-together with the other ladies. Who knows what you'll get up to?" He grinned.

"Cards, probably," I said dryly. We went up to the tower for the last morning of the conference; it was over at noon. I was glad; it had been informative, but there wasn't much that I could personally use. Plus it was vacation, and I wanted to spend time relaxing with my husband. When I saw the other women, I asked what they wanted to drink, and Barbara volunteered to bring libations. Wine was the choice, and we all seemed to be looking forward to the evening.

When we got home, Steve made himself scarce as I cleaned, and returned with a large box of hors d'oeuvers and a plate of crudities that he'd picked up from a well-known caterer. Then he took a six-pack of Guinness out of the refrigerator after dinner, and the big dogs accompanied him out the door down to Bucky's.


	54. Girls night out

"Hi, honey, I'm sorry for waking you up."

"Sweetheart? Where are you?" Steve yawned.

"Um. Yes. Well. I'm at the police station. I wondered if you could come bail me out. And also possibly Batgirl. They let Diana go because she's royalty, and Supergirl got a pass because she's a friendly alien and they were kind of afraid that she'd crisp them with her vision, I think."

"Emma Grace. What in the world have you been doing?"

"Well, things got a little out of hand," I said meekly. "I'll tell you everything when you pick me up."

It started off perfectly respectably. The ladies arrived, incognito, in street clothes. We had the snacks and some wine, and were discussing what games to play. Diana looked ever so slightly disappointed, which we picked up on. Turned out that she was hoping for a little more excitement, as game nights are apparently popular with all groups of superheroes. So we decided to go out and do some non-standard things. First off, first names were exchanged because it wouldn't be cool to go around saying superhero names all night. My identities were public, of course, and Diana's name was known, although her civilian identity's last name was not.

Batgirl, also known as Barbara, who knows the city like the back of her hand, started us off at Brooklyn Superhero Supply Company, an utterly charming store that is connected with a kickass nonprofit writing program for kids. We messed around, tried the Devillainizer, bought T-shirts, were entertained by the concept and the merchandise. Then we went to the Greenacre Park to show the out-of-towners that there's more to city parks beside Central Park, the City Hall subway station because it's beautiful and mysterious, Henri Bendel's to look at the Lalique windows (nice, but kind of underwhelming. Diana had once met the master), the Museum of the American Gangster (Supergirl couldn't believe there was a museum devoted to the criminal element), and we stopped off for absinthe at Apotheke. Then to a bar called Nurse Bettie, where we caught some burlesque (much more entertaining than we thought.) We were still pretty energized, so we went to a club to dance. We weren't really dressed for it, but because it was a slow night we got in anyway. We had fun people-watching, but that got boring, so we decided to to go Chinatown Ice Cream Factory. It was on our way there when disaster struck.

"We came up on a group of young men who were harassing a couple of young women," I explained to Steve (and Bucky, who I'd requested also come along. Sigurd and Torburn listened alertly) once we'd left the precinct house. They'd opted not to proceed with booking either Batgirl or me, after some conversation that we'd had with the captain. I'd found out that Batgirl was actually Barbara Gordon, and it was assumed that she was with our party because she'd met us through her father, the commissioner of police. We promptly supported this misunderstanding and were of course committed to keeping her secret. "They were starting to get grabby, so we had to act." Steve nodded understanding. "It wasn't that hard to extricate the women, the guys lost a lot of intent once the grownups arrived." They'd backed off and blustered once we intervened; Kara shooed off the younger women and we'd been able to focus on the males. They protested us sending the women away, saying they were dressed for male attention. Diana rolled her eyes.

"I can guarantee that they dressed that way because they like the look, not because they were hoping to attract some low-life predators,"I said crisply, which offended them. Their leader had to regain some status in the eyes of his gang, and tried to intimidate me by looming. What a joke. "Do you really think you can scare me?" I asked, bored. "I've taken down human criminals without breaking a sweat, I've stood on the killing grounds of an alien arena and faced off with creatures you don't have the imagination to even comprehend. You're not impressive."

The leader gaped at me. "She's one of the Avengers, dumbass," Barbara said scornfully. "And if you think women are asking to be assaulted because of their clothing, you're really asking for it. Your pants crotches are down to your knees and your underwear isn't very nice. I think you're asking for attention and I'm happy to show you how to dress." It sounded a lot more threatening in person and made one think that their pants would be permanently wedged up their buttcracks. Diana had been studying them and without warning, her armament revealed itself.

"It's so cool," I said enthusiastically to the guys. "It just sort of mists into place. Her bracelets, tiara, and lasso just sort of faded into view." She had immediately lassoed the leader. "Her lasso compels the truth, right? Well, it forced the Skrull to reveal itself. Not as dramatically as the truth perfume, but very effectively." The other gang members had tried to scatter once they realized what they'd been following, but Kara kept them herded together, preventing their escape. "The Skrull freaked out and started hissing in its own language. And then it grabbed a gun one of the other gang members had been carrying in his coat pocket and shot itself." The green blood had gone everywhere. "I noticed that their blood is actually a few degrees cooler than ours," I said, wrinkling my nose. 'The skin is more active because it actively has to work to retain a particular shape and that's what gives them the body temperature that humans have. So that's some additional information." Barbara had kind of freaked out about the gun and we searched the others and confiscated a few more firearms. She told me later that she'd been shot and had been paralyzed for a few years as the consequence. "Then the cops showed up. Despite the obvious fact that the boys were gangbangers, the cops talked to them first and they claimed they'd only been 'talking' to the women. The beat cops were ready to believe them and let them go, until Diana pointed out the Skrull. So they were taken into custody for that, not the fact that they'd been working up to assaulting those women. Had been assaulting them, they'd put their hands on the women." My blood began to boil again. "Diana demanded to know how they'd address that, and they decided that we'd escalated the situation, so we were arrested too and taken in. Diana told them what she thought of them and she's got diplomatic immunity, so they let her go. They let Supergirl go too; she's a friendly, but an argument could be made that she's part of a diplomatic mission as those from Krypton understand it, so they also released her. They had to wake up some of the senior officers, but ultimately they decided that booking the commissioner's daughter and Poppy would make them look bad." I curled my lip and Steve sighed.

"Um." Bucky considered this, then noticed where we were heading. "Why aren't we going home?"

"Because when that Skrull was speaking its own language, I understood it, thanks to Odin. We're going to the tower, where the others are going to meet us. We've got both a problem and valuable information, and we need to move on it."


	55. Search

When we got to the tower, Steve asked the AI where Tony was. The AI, who packs a lot of snark in with the Irish accent, told us that her boss was in his engineering lab. When we went upstairs, the AI had alerted him that we were coming and he was waiting impatiently. It looked like he'd been testing a variant of the arc reactor engine in the simulation chamber.

"So what's going on?" he said, a bit snappishly. His eyes took in the difference between my dress and the boys' sweatshirts and jeans. "What trouble did you get into now, Harrington?"

I elevated an eyebrow. "I was out with Diana, Batgirl, and Supergirl. Came across a Skrull who was the leader of a band of human thugs. Before he killed himself, he gloated that without him, the humans they had would die."

Tony dropped the crescent wrench he'd been fiddling with. "What now? I'm going to need more context." So I quickly ran over the story for him. "And that's all you know?" he sighed, picking up the wrench again.

I opened my mouth to answer and my phone rang. It was Diana. "Diana, Supergirl, Superman, and Flash are on their way. Batgirl and Batman are also en route."

"We might as well wait for them," he said grouchily, directing the AI to send them up when they got here and picking up his glass of whiskey. He didn't offer us any, I noted. He started violently when Supergirl knocked on a pane of glass, and nodded when I pointed around to a window that opened. Tony often flew his suits into this lab.

The Bats were the next up, followed by Diana and Flash, who'd been waiting for her. "I heard one of the police officers saying that the gang we interrupted was the Brotherhood, apparently they're located in the Chinatown area."

Batman nodded. "It gives us a place to start looking."

"Wait, where are we looking? What are we looking for?"

"Human hostages," Batman said, speaking slowly and clearly, as if to a child.

"Yeah, got that, flying hamster," Tony said. "But how are we going to search? We can't go door to door, and the Brotherhood isn't going to let us just saunter casually around their headquarters." He huffed a breath and pulled up Lexis/Nexus to start searching, directing the AI to pursue other searches. The rest of us waited silently and patiently as he waved his hands through screens of information projected by the computer.

"I guess I'll suit up," I finally murmured to Steve, and he nodded, following me. I kept a spare Poppy suit in his room, and we changed without much comment. 

"You go out for a couple hours and you're miles ahead of me," he said ruefully, pulling up the side zipper on his costume. I clipped my utility belt into place and slid my arms around him, resting my head on his chest, listening to the reassuring "lub-lub" of his heart.

"Only a step," I said, disagreeing. "But we just can't let people die. And I'm worried..."

"About experimentation," he finished, nodding. He gave me a friendly pat on the butt and we walked back down to the lab. Progress had been made while we were changing. Bucky filled us in quietly as Tony and Batman bickered. Bucky hadn't changed; his business suit was black leather plus the arm was exposed, and the arm was actually enough to identify him. Tonight, he wore a black leather jacket and dark jeans, so it was pretty much the same thing anyway, just with the arm covered.

"We've got two locations that are linked through property ownership to the gang, and they're fighting over who gets what," he murmured, and I listened. There was a site in what had previously been a store, the windows covered with paper and it was widely assumed that this is where they packaged their drugs. They were a middleman for a not-huge fish in the drug trade, and they were responsible for cutting the drugs and sending them out using couriers. There was a second site, a row house where the leader of the gang lived and kept a couple of girls. Tony and Bruce both apparently felt that this was the more promising location and were arguing over it.

Diana and Batgirl were getting increasingly irritated. "Enough," the Amazon said crisply. "The residence is big enough for both of you to search. "You two, Batgirl, Superman, and Supergirl will search the residence. "Emma, Flash, Captain America, the Winter Soldier, and I will search the shop." She forestalled any argument by motioning her team over, politely but firmly asking Tony to put the details for the store up for us. As we gathered around, Tony shut up and put the blueprint for the house up for the team he'd been assigned to.

"Looks pretty straightforward," Bucky opined after a cursory study. There was the storefront, a second story, and a basement. It was an older building, built in the 1910s, electricity upgraded in the 1980s, plumbing in the 1990s. We decided to go over as a team, and when we got there, Flash would do a quick run-through and let us know what we'd be up against. Nothing and nobody, hopefully. It was a weeknight, if that made any difference. Then the rest of us would come in and we'd conduct a search. I don't think any of us expected that the hostages would be there but that perhaps we'd find some clues to where they were being held. Surely the Skrull wouldn't be stupid enough to keep human hostages where they could be seen by the other gang members.

We took my car; it was a tight fit for five, and I squeezed into the backseat with Flash and Bucky as Steve drove and Diana had shotgun. Fortunately, at this time of night, it wasn't a long drive. I scanned the building through the window; even covered with paper I could still see that there weren't any heat signatures, and we went around to the alley to break in. Selina had said once that lockpicking wasn't difficult, and I'd taken it as a challenge. The lock was old and worn, and in this case Selina was right. I stepped back and Barry was back almost before he was gone. "It's clear," he said, and we all went in. Flash and Diana went left; I took a right and found the door to the downstairs immediately. I picked the lock again, and this time Steve and Bucky went down first, me behind. I might be bulletproof, but it still stings a lot and Steve was very good with his shield.

All sorts of caution for no payoff. There was a cot with a stained mattress, a table, some metal folding chairs, and a naked bulb on the ceiling. The boys headed out into the room to check the undersides of the furniture, and I casually looked under the stairs. It was quite dark back there, and I asked Bucky if I could borrow his finger. He grinned at me and turned on his flashlight finger. "We could have been better prepared," he said, and I nodded. We stared at the back wall, frowning.

"Something looks off," I said, cocking my head. Bucky nodded.

"Don't know what it is, though." That attracted Steve's attention, and he came over.

"Huh," he said, and ducked under the stairs to poke the wall with his shield. We were expecting a sharp sound, as the walls were concrete, but this rang like metal. Steve patted the wall, then started to hit a place with the shield edge. We were all startled when he opened a heavy metal door. He cautiously patted inside the door on the side that didn't have the hinges and a light flickered on. We advanced cautiously into the room; the light was bright, the walls painted white. Half the room was dominated by equipment, most of which I'd never seen before. The other side had bunkbeds, spaced closely together. We'd found them.

There were at least a dozen hostages. Chained to the beds that were bolted to the floor. Bucky leaned out into the stairwell. "Diana! Flash! Down here!" Flash was immediately by our side; Diana's footsteps were light and quick on the stairs. 

"Gods," she breathed as she joined us inside. The hostages were all terrified children.


	56. Child care

Little faces turned toward the door, eyes blinking against the harsh light. Fear was seen on every child, and the sudden sharp smell of urine indicated that someone had just lost control of his or her bladder. We exchanged confused and worried looks, not sure how to proceed. Steve half-turned to communicate with Tony to get his group over here immediately. I had to suppress an entirely inappropriate laugh. Because Tony was not likely to make this better. But miracles happen every day, so maybe I shouldn't be so cynical.

"Hi," I said softly and gently, waving my hand at the children. A couple of them had screwed up their faces trying to control their tears. We hadn't heard any of them make so much as a peep. "Hi. My name is Poppy, I'm a member of the Avengers, and we're here to help you. This is Wonder Woman, the Flash--they're from out of town--and Captain America and his best friend, the Winter Soldier." I kept my voice soft and easy. "We're here to take you out of here and take care of you. Just so you know, the person who told us about this place is dead. He won't be coming back." I stopped to let this sink in. Diana spotted a chair in the lab portion of the room and placed it facing the children, none of whom had moved or spoken yet. She sat down and started talking to the children in a low, calm alto, introducing herself further and talking about what she did. Flash went upstairs to wait for the others. I moved into the lab part, looking for paper or some kind of records about what was being done here. Bucky came to help me, while Steve joined Diana.

Some lab equipment I knew, like the centrifuges and a gas chromatograph/mass spectrometer. There was an HPLC as well, glassware, thermometer, a safety cabinet with hazardous chemicals and jars and bottles of safer chemicals in glass-fronted cabinets. There was a bunch of stuff I couldn't identify in the refrigerator and slammed the door before anybody could get a look. Bucky found the recording device and handed it to me. We retreated into the basement to listen to it. It was in the Skrull language, which meant that Bucky only heard the hisses and glottal stops of that language. I started translating immediately. The entry we had was describing biochemical treatments given to the children. Some seemed designed to induce mutations in the children, others to create a Skrull/human hybrid in existing humans rather than doing it the old-fashioned way. Partway through the translation of how the 'subjects'-the children-were reacting to the treatments, I stopped because Bucky was looking murderous. I touched his arm to get his attention and asked if he'd go up and wait for Tony, make him take off his suit. I wasn't sure how the kids would react to it. He nodded once and took the stairs three at a time. I went back inside. The children hadn't moved much, but some of them had stopped crying. I started to take pictures of the lab setup for future reference and found an inconspicuous door. When I looked into it, I shut it promptly and stood a moment so I could regain my composure. Then I went over to Diana and Steve. One of the littleist children was creeping slowly toward Diana. I tugged Steve to his feet and took him out.

"Behind a door in there is a...It's..." I said, unable to find the words. "There are corpses of other children who I suspect didn't make it through the treatment process. We need the police." Steve listened in silence as I summarized what I'd heard on the recording device, and he looked to be in a killing rage, much like Bucky. I sent him upstairs to call the police.

I went back and noticed more movement with the children toward Diana. Maybe they'd been afraid of Steve. I got on the com and asked the boys to hold off coming down for a bit but to send Supergirl and Batgirl. I went back in and sat down where Steve had been. After a hitch in the activity, the children stealthily crept toward us, Diana still talking smoothly and quietly. None of the children looked to be more than ten. I counted fourteen of them. They stopped, just out of easy reach, crouching down but not sitting, wary of any movement toward them. I heard Steve in my earbud, telling us that the others had arrived and that the police had been called; he'd requested female officers. Diana and I looked at each other, and we heard light footsteps hurrying down the stairs. The children heard them too; they scattered and retreated. I turned a little, smiling tensely and asking them to slow down. The caution was unnecessary; Kara and Barbara stopped dead. Natalia came down behind them, and for once I was glad to see her. She would probably have the most experience with children like this due to her time in the Red Room. She led the other two in and sat down beside me. Kara and Barbara brought in chairs from the basement. The newcomers introduced themselves, and after a little bit, started to creep back toward us. It was agonizing to wait. We wanted to grab the kids, check them over, get them the fuck out of that nightmare.

Natalia surprised me. She held out her arms and asked briskly, "Who wants a hug?" Two children, among the youngest, immediately launched themselves at her. The rest of us did the same and other children responded favorably although not quite as enthusiastically. Five children held back; they had skin conditions or bruising or cuts that looked more severe than the others. I cuddled a little girl, who abruptly began sobbing, setting off the others, although not all of them made noise. Tony said over coms that the police were here and that two female officers were on the way down.

"The police are coming down, " Kara told the children as we heard the first footsteps on the stairs. "They're also here to help you. We want to take you out of this room, get you taken care of." She continued to talk about how we all wanted to help them, and this time the children didn't scatter when they saw the newcomers. The officers looked appalled, but mustered smiles for the children. The little girl looked over my shoulder warily, using me as a human shield, her little hands clutching at my arm. The officers gently asked the children to come with them. You could see that they wanted to leave, but the door was too close to the lab part and their eyes kept returning to that part of the room.

"How about if we kind of make a barrier between the door and the lab?" I asked, and the other adults shrugged. "I'm going to get up," I told the little girl, "and go stand between you and that area over there. That way you can get out safely. When you're ready, you can walk past me to those nice ladies over there. They'll help you. Can you do that?" We looked at each other for awhile, and then she crawled off my lap and stood. I stood up too and carefully, slowly walked back, stopping at the corner of the lab, turning my back on it, and waiting, then extending my arms to the side to increase the visual barrier. It took another five or six minutes, but one of the older children who had hung back suddenly raced past me to one of the officers, who took the child outside and up the stairs. That broke the ice and a few other children either ran or crept past me. The other women came up to stand with me, forming a corridor of safety, and all of the children, even one I hadn't seen was limping, walked past us. The policewoman picked up the limping boy and we followed them upstairs. 

Things were a bit different upstairs. The kids were cowering from the men, and one EMT who had picked up a child to examine had the vast surprise of having his patient burst briefly into flame. He involuntarily released the kid, who ran to the police woman, cowering behind her. The EMT had lost his eyebrows but was otherwise ok. Some negotiation with the more verbal kids resulted in them agreeing to be examined if the police women stayed with them. Then Batman, Tony, and I were asked by the police to go through the lab equipment (in protective clothing) to make sure there were no nasty surprises waiting for the crime scene techs.

We ended up having Tony taking pictures of the setup and indicating with red or green X's on the photos whether something was safe. The red X's represented something that was either unsafe or we didn't know what it was for. There were several pieces of equipment that we didn't know the function of. They looked subtly different in design from human equipment and we felt pretty comfortable thinking that they were Skrull devices. I told the police that I could translate the contents of the recording device, and after receiving permission from Commissioner Gordon and the DA, both of whom had shown up for a briefing, took custody of it with the understanding that I would be personally responsible for translating the recordings, providing a copy of the translation to the police, and returning the device unharmed.

Then there was the question of what to do with the children themselves. They needed to be housed, fed, and cared for, and at least one of them had had mutations induced. A representative from the foster care system said that it wasn't safe to put them into a foster home. Tony volunteered to house them at least temporarily at the tower. I don't know why I was surprised. He's fundamentally a caring person. But this provided an acceptable solution as it was thought that we'd know what to do with the kids.

Not so much, no. Hawkeye was the only one of us with hands-on childcare experience. Tony woke him up and they started to talk over coms about how to arrange things. He put his suit back on and flew straight back. The children were placed into the police cars and we all made our way to the tower. Things were still being set up, so the kids were offered a choice between a midnight snack and a bath or shower. I helped serve hot chocolate to some of the kids who couldn't resist. The older kids were shown to bathrooms and allowed to shower or draw baths on their own; the smaller ones had to have help. Clint had a great way with him and was doing a bang-up job of gaining the trust of the kids, helping to bathe the younger kids. The kids were offered cots in the main room on the residence hall or they could have private rooms. They all elected to stick together, although some of them curled up on the couches instead.

Steve and I retreated to his room and went straight to bed. It had been exhausting and traumatic for all of us, not just the kids. When we woke up, we were glad to see that the kids were still asleep and Pietro and Wanda watching over them. I took the recorder to the conference room where I could talk and nobody would be disturbed. There was a fine speech-to-text program on the computer, so I didn't even have to worry about my lousy keyboarding skills as I translated. About an hour into this, Steve and Tony came in with breakfast. I didn't have a lot of appetite.

"The Skrull was conducting experiments on the kids, wanting to see if he could A) induce particular types of mutations in humans and B) direct the severity of the mutations. He had started off with teenagers, but he felt that puberty was making things more difficult, so he switched to younger kids. He doesn't say anything about how he got the kids, but the ones in that back room either died from the treatments he tried or he killed them because the outcomes were not what he desired." I drew a deep breath. "There's no concern for the long-term effects of these treatments, and some of the compounds are from Skrull labs, there's no information about what's in them." I took a small sip of coffee and toyed with a piece of toast. For once, the aroma of bacon wasn't doing anything for me.

"I put in a call to Professor Xavier," Tony said. He looked exhausted. His hair was all spiky like he'd been pulling on it and it looked like he hadn't slept. "He's coming up with Beast to consult."

"Nice," I said admiringly. "Dr McCoy has such fluffy, pretty fur. He's bound to be very appealing to the kids, especially the younger ones. Maybe we could show Monsters Inc. while we're waiting. They might make a connection with him and the Sully character."

"Emma, he's got fangs, claws for days, and he's big and strong. You really think kids will think he's cute?" Tony said in disbelief. Steve also looked like he was questioning my sanity just a bit.

"Yeah, because the blue fur is a pretty big draw," I said. "He looks like a big stuffed animal and he's cultivated a very non-threatening air because of his other physical traits. His voice is soothing. I have a lot of faith in his abilities. Ten bucks says I'm right," I baited them. Tony reached into his pocket and found a bill, slapping it onto the table. I slapped down two fives, and Steve had to take change for his twenty. Tony stayed to listen to the translation, but Steve kissed me and left. I didn't understand the tests that I was translating, and Tony didn't seem to have any more information than I did, but he said, when I took a break, that the police had asked him and Bruce to test the equipment.

"I don't think I could be much help figuring out how things work," I said, "but if you want an assistant, I'm happy to volunteer." He thanked me, then wandered off, holding the door for Torburn and Sigurd, both of whom were glad to see me. Bucky had gone home last night and returned with his dogs and mine, thinking that the dogs might be a welcome distraction to the stressed out kids. Both of them wanted to get up and see the kids for themselves, so I opened the door for them and they hustled back out. It took over three more hours to translate the rest of the recording, and I printed copies for us, Batman, Dr McCoy, and the police, and included audio files as well. I packed the transcript, thumb drive, and the recorder in a box, sealed it, and had it couriered directly to the captain in charge of the investigation. When I got back up to the main room, the kids were all up, although there wasn't much chatter still, or much noise, period. "Monsters Inc" was playing on the big TV, and all of the children were paying at least some attention to it. They stayed in bunches, nobody going to the bathroom or for water alone. They were all dressed in new clothes; I presumed that Tony had had things sent over from a store. Clint, Natalia, Steve, and Bucky were also there; the dogs were a big hit, much more popular than any of the humans. Kids formed groups around the dogs, who seemed tickled at the attention.

Steve was sprawled on the big squishy armchair, but he made room for me when I came over so I could drape myself over his lap. "Anything new on the recording?" Clint asked quietly, and I shook my head.

"It's done, don't understand the tests or how he was measuring outcomes," I said with a sigh. "It sounds like he was hoping to bypass the war with the Kree over the planet by creating a significant number of Skrull/human hybrids. He was also starting to diddle around with delivery vectors, trying to achieve an airborne infection rather than something that has to be injected. Sick freak. I'm glad he blew himself away." Clint and Natalia apparently hadn't heard that part of the story, judging from their reactions. Then the AI announced the arrival of Professor X and Dr McCoy. Steve got up to greet them, and I watched as he brought them in. The kids were very wary of Professor X, even in a wheelchair, but Dr McCoy got a warmer welcome as he sat down on the floor near the children. Sigurd and Torburn extricated themselves to go say hello, which emboldened some of the kids. Sure enough, soon the youngest kids were cuddled up to the doctor, petting his fur, and even the older kids were interested in him. I smirked, and Steve handed over the thirty dollars.

Dr McCoy got each kid to consent to a physical, going off to the back of the room and a game table where nobody felt like they were being taken away and could still see everybody, but as the dogs and the TV were available, there was also some privacy as attention was elsewhere. The Professor came over and talked with us, observing, but with his gifts he didn't have to be close to know how the exams were going. After the last kid had been examined, Dr McCoy came over for a brief chat. "Ten of the fourteen seem to have active mutations, like the child who can produce fireballs. The other four have static enhancements. There's one with impermeable skin, like Ms Harringtons's, but the other three have some of the unstable molecular characteristics that the Skrulls possess. Milder, though, it doesn't seem likely that they'll be able to morph as effectively as the Skrulls."The tower AI interrupted to say that police were here, requesting to speak with us and check on the children.

"Send them up," Tony said, joining us. He looked like he'd gotten a nap in. He scanned the room, shaking his head ruefully at the sight of a kid tugging on Dr McCoy's hand. "Let's get an update."


	57. Outcomes

To my surprise, the Commissioner was with the two officers and the woman from Child Protective Services. They joined us where they could observe the kids but not freak them out. "They're looking better," Commissioner Gordon observed.

"Being rescued did a lot of good for them," Steve agreed. "But some of the kids still aren't speaking much, or at all if they don't have to answer a question. They need help."

Gordon scrubbed his face with his hand. It didn't look like he'd had a lot sleep either. "We're having a hard enough time finding some place for them to live," he said. "Foster families are afraid. Some of the children were kidnapped and we've tracked down their families, who are concerned about what was done to them. A couple of them don't want 'muties' in their families. A couple of kids were in the foster care system, but there are five that we can't account for."

Professor X spoke up. "I run a school upstate for children with mutations. I would like to offer places there for the children with nowhere else to go; we can address their trauma as well. It may be also that the children with families who want them back may be overwhelmed; in those cases, I'd like to offer to provide the children with training to help control their new abilities. While it's always possible that these induced abilities may fade over time, it's my experience that once a change is made that it will persist. There just aren't that many places where children who are different can go, and although it has been my practice to open our doors only to mutants, I do not feel that in good conscience that we can ignore these children."

"What's the difference between mutants and these kids?" one of the police officers asked.

"We believe that mutants are those with genetic changes that developed in utero. Mutates are those like Ms. Harrington and Captain Rogers, who acquired their gifts as a result of exposure to outside stimuli or energies. These children would be classified as mutates."

Commissioner Gordon nodded. "It's a very generous offer," he said. "We will be taking you up on it; we're just not sure how many children will be coming to you." After some discussion, it was decided that the Commissioner would talk to each child in the presence of Beast, for psychological comfort, and Professor X. The rest of us watched in concern. The children who were going home were both thrilled and worried, but overall they wanted their parents. The foster children were the most receptive to the offer to attend Professor X's institute. Additional questioning of the children with no known origin didn't help matters. They didn't want to talk about their past and accepted the offer to go to the institute as well. The hardest interviews were those children whose parents didn't want them anymore, and I cursed the parents viciously in my head. The children's grief affected the adults in the interviews as well. Dr McCoy looked curiously deflated, his fur looking limp and sad, the Commissioner had tears in his eyes, and Professor X was so grim he looked carved from stone although his manner was still compassionate.

It was agreed that the children would go back to the Institute in the group together for sophisticated testing to determine the effect of the Skrull's treatment on each one. After that was done, the parents would visit their kids and hear the results of the testing. It was unsaid but understood that if the parents rejected their children that they would stay at the institute. The police officers helped get the kids ready for transportation and would accompany them to the institute with the CPS representative. We accompanied everybody down to the parking garage, waving as they left.

"The kids in the storage room were mostly teenagers, street kids, runaways," Gordon said. "We have some families to notify, but mostly not. The younger kids there we can't identify and the M.E. thinks that even DNA identification might not be possible." He shook his head. "There are days when I hate my job."

"Let us know how we can help," Steve said immediately.

"As soon as I figure out a way, I'll let you know," Gordan said, trying for a smile.

I was glad to get back upstairs. Sigurd and Torburn were also depressed by how things had ended. Sam was going for a run and offered to take them with him; a good romp might help them out. The rest of us picked up the main room. There wasn't much to be done; folding away cots, blankets, and pillows, picking up cups and plates from the table. The kids had been very neat.

We were all pretty depressed. There wasn't a lot of conversation. Some of us made ourselves scarce. Natalia and Clint curled up in the big chair. I cuddled up to Steve on the sofa and he put his arms around me; Bucky sprawled out next to us and put his head on my leg. He moved his legs only when Sam plopped down on them. Bucky hissed and kicked; Sam smirked slightly and got up just enough for Bucky to move his feet. Pietro and Wanda leaned against each other on another sofa, Tony looked out the windows over the skyline. Peter and Jim sat down halfheartedly to play chess. I was worried about Peter; some of the bodies I'd seen in that storage room had been as old as him. Ugh. I needed to get a grip on my urge to lock him in the tower for a few more years. He was going to be graduating from high school in a few months, and lord knows he can take care of himself, but in the back of my head was a worry that some interstellar asshole would kidnap and experiment on him. And all I'd be able to do is rip the asshole into bite-size chunks with my fingernails before setting them on fire and beating them to dust.

Tony turned swiftly and rummaged around in the storage closet. He tossed a couple of black boxes on the table and said "Avengers, assemble" crisply. We reluctantly got to our feet and drifted over. It was Cards Against Humanity and an expansion pack. Steve gently rubbed the back of my neck and held a chair for me. It turned out to be the perfect diversion, so silly and over the top that it couldn't help but brighten the mood. And we didn't take it easy on Pete, either. He was legally an adult. I laughed when the first black card he got was "During sex, I like to think about _____________." He flushed and looked at the ceiling as we all reviewed our cards. I chortled an evil chortle and tossed down my card. Everybody (except Pete) looked at me alertly and grinned. Peter collected the cards, organized them from the back so that they were all right-side up, and started reading them. Everybody seemed to have provided something dirty. His voice cracked when he read "Genetically engineered supersoldiers" on my card.

"Oh my god, mom!" he said, scandalized, and everybody howled. I didn't win that card, but I shoulda. He gave it to Wanda, who'd submitted the most tame one-- "Licking things to claim them as your own." Tony also goaded him with "The primal, ball-slapping sex your parents are having right now," which he read aloud just as I leaned over and kissed Steve. 

"Geeze," Peter said, mortified. "You guys."

"I'm 98, son, I'm not dead," Steve said firmly, and everybody laughed.

Tony won the next one--"What gets better with age?" "Robert Downey Jr." Everybody groaned as I flicked the black card to him.

"Just because you look similar..."

"Pretty much identical," Tony cut in. "Except that I'm a billionaire, playboy, philanthropist..." Jim told him to shut up and Pietro threw popcorn at him.

We were all a lot more cheerful when we hit the haiku card. After that, it was a matter of deciding on dinner. We went out as a group, then, still feeling improved, split up to do our own things. Bucky, Steve, the dogs, and I started for home. Later, I did think about a genetically engineered supersoldier during sex.

The next morning, we had to get up early to make it to Albany for the hearing of my claims against Tony and Natalia. "It's been a hell of a honeymoon," Steve said ruefully, kissing the back of my neck before helping me on with my suitcoat.

"Well, at least we had one," I said, turning and kissing his tempting mouth. Then I remembered and added my engagement ring to the wedding band I always wore. I didn't plan to Avenge anything in Albany so I didn't have to worry about damaging anything. The dogs accompanied us out of the house and continued to Bucky's where they jumped the fence and trotted around to the dog door in the back.

I drove and we talked about pleasant things during the drive. The closed hearing turned out to be rather informal, a panel of three led by a mediator, who heard my complaint. The first one up, Tony didn't dispute the facts and did in fact apologize formally for his carelessness. I was a little bemused. Natalia had more of an explanation as to why she had made her revelation out on the pavement, supported by documentation from the tower medical staff. The conditioning she'd been exposed to had been breaking down even before I cracked it completely, since she hadn't been reinforced for many years, and she'd been having cognitive issues which she hadn't shared with the group. Then there was a break for lunch and deliberations by the panel from which we were excluded, so the three of us filed out. Steve stood up with my overcoat, smoothing it over my shoulders before looking at the others. He looked at me, and seeing a lack of tension and/or rage, invited the others out to lunch with us.

It was pretty civil, all in all. I'd gotten used to being exposed, and after what we'd just been through, it didn't seem like as big a thing as it was originally. We even got dessert before a text stated that a decision had been reached. The fine for exposing a secret identity was a firm $50 000 for each. The panel acknowledged that Tony had thought that the store was closed but since breaking in had been his idea, he hadn't checked to see that the door to a retail establishment was closed and locked and had a history of impulsive activity, he was ordered to pay me $200 000. Natalia got the same fine because she had been aware that she was having problems for some time but had not taken steps to get herself fixed. When we left, I told both of them to make the sums payable to Professor X, to help with the testing, training, and boarding of the kids we'd rescued.

Steve drove home. "I'm surprised that went so well," he said eventually. "Things have been tense between you three lately."

I shook my head in resignation. "Fortunately for Tony, every now and then something comes up that cuts off my irritation and/or anger. This time it was the whole thing with the kids. He really steps up and it makes my negative emotion meter reset." Steve laughed. "It's a good thing that these things happen or he'd be dead by now," I said morosely.

Steve took my hand. "Why is it that this cycle keeps happening?"

"I think it's because he operates from fear when he's acting as an Avenger," I said slowly. "He's so afraid of what might happen--the bad guys getting away with murder, civilian deaths, the team breaking up--that he makes plans and overcompensates enormously. He doesn't plan for differences of opinion or changing circumstances in his rush to protect. Which is weird, because in the field he's not nearly that neurotic." I laced our fingers together. "Like when the UN sprung the Sokovia Accords on you all, he didn't stop to consider the ramifications or to stand up and say, 'yeah, but it was the bureaucrats that sent in a nuke to raze the city when the Chitauri invaded and we were the only things standing between our world and conquest' or 'Ultron was my responsibility, mine and Bruce's, everybody else thought the murderbot was a bad idea' or 'consider what would happen if the bad guys are allowed to run rampant without our ability to move freely.' He practically revels in the guilt and blame sometimes."

"What about Nat?"

"Her I'm still kind of mad at. Because we were supposed to be friends. I thought we were friends."

He squeezed my hand. "Nat and I have been through a lot and she's very loyal to me."

"She sees the possibility of redemption if she follows you," I said, a bit tartly. "Because you're not always right, but you always have a strong moral compass. And speaking from a personal perspective, having that kind of courage and... and righteousness... is really extraordinary. Powerful. Being able to be part of it. I see you and Bucky, that extraordinary friendship, and I ... hope for something like that for myself."

"Sweetheart," he breathed.

"So I get why she's so loyal to you, it just kind of sticks in my throat that our friendship was so easy to chuck. There shouldn't have even been sides when you started to decline. Both of us have been lab rats, willingly enough. If I'd have known about it and heard the plans, I would have signed you up myself, just to have the opportunity to have more time with you."

He swallowed and nodded, eyes on the road. "But I was afraid and confused, and I asked them not to tell you. Or Stark proposed not telling you, and I agreed. I can't quite remember that part, but I remember not wanting to risk... I don't know what. Rejection? Getting your hopes up? There were a lot of things. And you were strong and hanging in there. It would have been more worries. I told myself that I was protecting you, but it wasn't right." He huffed a dry, unamused laugh. "You needed to be protected from me, not protected by me." We drove in silence awhile.

"But you know better, right?" I said suddenly. "Something like that happens again, you're going to be straight with me, right?"

"As straight as Barton's arrows," he nodded. "Nothing is off limits or kept from you. Except for presents or little surprises. Nothing important. You're my partner as well as the love of my life. A couple of lives, it turns out. I don't know what I'd do without you. All that time in the ice... it wasn't just hard to catch up with changes in technology and manners and society and morals, it was the isolation too. And fucking HYDRA. To find that SHIELD was using their tech, had been infiltrated...was really disillusioning. Then I found out Bucky was still alive, and what had happened to him. Finding him, helping him was my central goal. It gave me a purpose, gave me someone I could really connect with, something precious that I thought was gone forever. That didn't work out quite as I'd hoped, what with him having to go back into cryo, but everything that I'd sacrificed was worth it, even having to go on the run, dragging my friends into hiding too. Then in the middle of nowhere, there you were. You talk about my moral compass like it's the only one, but you have one too, and I know I've been the cause of a lot of trouble in your life because you just won't let something drop if you think it's the right thing to do. And I'm determined to be worth it. I don't ever want to let you down again. So yeah, I'm with you to the end of the line. Whatever and whenever that happens."

"Aw." I said softly. "That hits me right in the feels." I stroked the back of his hand with my thumb. "Too bad this isn't an older car with a bench seat, so I could slide over and put my head on your shoulder."

"You'd have to take off your seatbelt," he pointed out firmly, "and that's not ok, just in case there's an accident." I snorted, then feeling devilish, let go of his hand and trailed my hand up his thigh to his fly.

"I bet I could give you road head and not take off my seatbelt," I said thoughtfully.

He swerved. "What? No, that's dangerous in a moving vehicle," he said, prying one hand off the wheel to recapture my hand from his crotch. "That sort of thing has to wait until we're at a complete stop. Or at home, where the risks are fewer."

I batted my eyelashes at him. "Perhaps the offer is only good at the time of issuance," I said, and he groaned.

"You're killing me, sweetheart," he said, and I relented.

"Let's see what happens after supper," I conceded.

What happened was that when we returned, Bucky came over with all the dogs and dinner to hear about the hearing, so negotiations had to be postponed until bedtime. Afterward, he laced our fingers and positioned us on our sides to talk. Then he rolled over and took something out of the drawer of the nightstand before turning back to me and taking my hand again. "Wanted to ask you something," he said a little nervously.

"Must be big, you waited until I'm all happy and agreeable and relaxed," I noted lazily.

He smiled a little. "A bit. I wanted to know if you'd take these back," he said, the tension in him ramping up with every word. I looked at his hand; he had my first engagement and wedding ring. "And not to replace your rings," he rattled on fast. "I just... I don't know. I want you to have them."

"You feel that if I do, it'll mean that we've moved past the ending of that marriage," I said suddenly. Sometimes I'm pretty darn insightful. Steve jerked a bit.

"Yeah," he admitted after a moment. "I feel like you've forgiven me."

"Wouldn't have married you again if I hadn't," I said tartly.

"I know, but... to me they're symbols of how I failed you. Us."

I sighed. How do you say no to that? "We have moved past that, especially after our talk this afternoon, honey."

"That's why I wanted to ask now," he said.

"I probably won't wear the wedding band again," I said, "I like my new one a whole lot. But the sapphire, that I'd wear again as a right hand ring." I wiggled my left hand at him and the big one carat diamond sparked in the faint light. "This is us now. A new version. Improved." I took the rings from him, then reached back and put them on my nightstand.

"To the end of the line, Emma," he said softly.


	58. The next adventure

The next morning we slept in, but I had to go in to make some inventory for my business. The dogs whined and decided to stay home with Steve, who was still in bed when I left. It was good to be back at the store. First thing I did was to check the safe, which was missing a gift, but had the unexpected addition of a box of high-end chocolates with a note congratulating me on my marriage. Yum, a caramel. I nibbled it as I tossed the next piece of jewelry for my larcenous friend into its place on the shelf of the safe and picked up a tray of work to complete. Around five, there was a tapping on the door; I opened it to find my husband. I pulled his head down for a thorough kiss, happy both to see him and for the production of the day. "Is that a bazooka in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" I asked playfully, and he blinked at me for a few moments before remembering why he was there. We'd planned that I'd come home and we'd have dinner and an early night.

"Uh.." he said, then his face cleared. "Right. Stark wants a meeting." He followed me as I walked back to the workbench and started cleaning up, shutting off the gas to the torch. He picked up a drawing I'd done of a piece in progress, and I flushed, taking the page.

"I'm not very good at the sketches," I said, putting everything into the newer safe. I'd literally drawn it with crayons with a lot of hope that I could make something prettier and more elegant than the drawing. "I should take lessons from you, my dearest." He looked up at me and smiled.

"Or I could refine them for you," he offered. I looked at him.

"You'd do that for me?" I asked, and he rolled his eyes.

"Of course. I'm not quite sure how you manage to work with these," he said briskly. "There's no detail, really, just a general sort of idea. The work you're doing is much more precise." He gathered up a few more of my embarrassing efforts.

I looked at them quickly and picked out the paper folds with the gemstones I'd be using in the designs. "Thank you," I said softly.

"I know how you can thank me," he murmured, tracing a line of kisses down my throat. I swore when his phone rang. The ringtone was "Highway to Hell." He sighed, pressed one last kiss above my collarbone, and answered. "Stark," he acknowledged flatly. "Can this wait? You're cockblocking."

I chortled and put my arms around him. I could hear Tony laughing. "Tough, old man. Meeting." Steve growled and hung up. I had him put the folds of gemstones in the inner pocket of his leather jacket and folded up the hideous drawings to put in my bag, then I armed the system and we left.

Everybody was lounging around the main room when we came in, the last to arrive. Steve took my coat, putting it over the back of a chair as if indicating that we weren't staying long. I smiled and took a seat by Bucky; Steve joined us, folding his arms and leaning back.

"Now that we're all here, I wanted to make you aware of some inquiries we've received," Tony said briskly. "There's a real uptick of media that want interviews." He started passing out folders to each of us and let us take a look before continuing. "And there's also an unauthorized biography of us that's almost complete," he said flatly, the snark gone from his voice.

"What?" Bucky said, looking appalled. "They can do that?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Yes, Rip Van Winkle. But the thing is, it's being done by a reporter in this town and he wants to give us the chance to talk to him, give our side, before it's finished. The thing is that we don't have long to do it in. So the first question is whether we cooperate or not, and if so, to what extent."

"Some of us don't have much in the way of dirty laundry," Natalia said. "Others, though..."

"Who's the reporter?" Clint wanted to know.

"Colin James, of the Bugle."

"He's pretty evenhanded about his coverage," I said, feeling a little better. "Hopefully this book won't be some Jekyll and Hyde thing."

"He's not giving us the manuscript to read, so we don't know," Tony shrugged. "But we do have an opportunity to tell our sides to whatever stories he's heard. Downside, he can twist what we say, not quite getting it out of context, but not being fair." We discussed, and ultimately we decided that whether to cooperate with a reporter would be left up to the individual, but that it would be a good idea if we all decided to give interviews to Colin. Also in our files were some guidelines for interviews, prepared by Publicity. We'd never really been open to the prospect of giving a lot of interviews, but we were all keenly aware of the power of good press and actively interested in pursuing that. Tony also indicated a new mailbox feature in the main room, not far from the door; internal correspondence and requests for interviews would be placed there and we were to check it regularly.

I leafed through the requests. In addition to Colin's, I had them for my university alumni magazine, Scientific American, MAKE, a podcast for the superhero fandom, and a request from Time for a joint interview with Steve. I nudged him as Sam was asking a question and pointed it out. His lips curved up. I borrowed his pen and signed my consent to all six. He kissed my cheek and signed the ones for Time and Colin as well. His folder was a lot thicker than mine and would need more review.

"One thing we need to discuss is whether to tell him about the arena," Tony said over a murmur as people muttered to each other. That popped up everybody's heads.

"How would anybody even know about that?" Jim asked.

Tony shrugged. "It was noted when we all went missing for a chunk of time and that Bruce vanished and Pietro returned. He's going to want to know where we were." This caused a lot of uneasy comments, but the Kree-Skrull invasion would make it easier for people to accept it.

"It might be good for us," Natalia said thoughtfully. "Show them that we know how to win against different kinds of aliens." In the end, though, we agreed to answer questions about it if they were asked, but not volunteer the information or discuss the more personal things that had happened along the way. Looking around, I could tell that I wasn't the only one who didn't want to revisit our time there.

Tony collected the consents from those of us who'd signed them, and the meeting was over. We took off with Bucky and went home, getting dinner along the way. Steve and I curled up on the sofa, him with his sketchbook, my talentless drawings, and the gemstones for reference, and me with my Kindle ready to answer his occasional questions. By the time we went up to bed, Steve had produced beautiful drawings for all six stones and was well rewarded upstairs.

The next morning the store reopened, and Wanda and Pietro started off strong; we were busy all day with people wanting Valentines day gifts. I started working on making the visions in Steve's drawings reality. After work, I went home and did the prep for dinner for when Steve came home. As I was cleaning up, I had a text that set up my interview with Colin the following Monday. Then Steve came home and I snuggled up with a hug.

When we sat down to dinner, I told him about the text and he nodded. "Ours overlap a bit. He's going to want to ask us questions about our relationship, and I'd rather that we were both there for that." I smiled. "Also, Bucky is scheduled before me, and I wanted to be around for moral support."

"The store's closed on Mondays," I said thoughtfully. "Wouldn't hurt to go a little early."


	59. Interviews

Monday morning, Steve, Torburn, Sigurd, and I walked in with Bucky, stopping for breakfast, which he sort of picked at. Steve didn't say anything, just stole his bacon. When we got to the tower, Colin was still talking to Wanda, a continuation of their interview on Sunday. I nipped down to the workshop to take a look at the arc reactor engines we'd been working on. We'd been trying to automate fabrication since I was supposed to have a healed brain, incapable of pushing atoms around and this was a high profile project. I got back just in time to see Bucky stand up nervously, wipe his palms on his jeans, and shake hands with Colin. I detected a flash of nerves on the reporter's face and smiled, stepping up to shake his hand too.

"We thought we'd go in with Bucky for moral support," I said brightly, and both men seemed to relax a little.

"I didn't know I'd be getting three for the price of one," Colin said, joking, and Steve put his arm around my waist and extended his hand too.

"It's all for one," he said, and Bucky smiled. We went into a smaller room, which had been refurnished for the purpose of the interviews with comfortable chairs and tables. There was a box of Kleenex and a trash can, too.

"Anybody want coffee?" I asked, and went to get some beverages while Steve brought in the big comfy chair. I grinned when I came back with the tray and passed out coffee mugs, setting the plate of pastries on the table before joining Steve. All we were missing was the Spanish Inquisition. Colin would have to do.

Colin started off asking if he could record the interview, and some general questions about Bucky's early life, verifying his birthday on March 10, asking some questions about his family. He was the eldest child of four. "Do you have any family left?" Colin asked.

"My brothers and sister are dead," he said tonelessly. "I don't think their kids or grandkids really want to be around me." I reached over and patted his arm. He didn't look over at me, but he patted my hand before playing with his coffee cup.

Colin moved on to other aspects of his childhood. Bucky had been an excellent student and athlete, popular with the other children, a spectacular overachiever. "How did you and Captain Rogers meet?" Colin asked.

"Some bullies were trying to steal his lunch money," he said, smiling at the memory.

"He had no idea he'd be stuck with me after that," Steve said, and the two of them grinned at each other. They traded some stories of their adventures, and Colin and I heard about how Bucky had become a three-time welterweight YMCA champion. The stories that Steve told subtly built up a picture of Bucky as he was then, handsome, fun, outgoing, charismatic, gifted. Then there was the war; Bucky had given him boxing lessons for a couple of weeks before they went to enlist. Steve had been rejected without needing the physical exam. The doctors had taken one look at him and his list of maladies, including asthma and high blood pressure, and couldn't stamp his folder "4F" fast enough. But Bucky had been drafted later, trained in the winter in Wisconsin (I wasn't the only one who shuddered at that thought), and his last night before shipping out to the war had been spent with Steve on a double date at the Stark Expo that featured a flying car demonstrated by none other than Howard Stark. At this point in the narrative, Tony poked his head in to find out where everybody was.

"Hey, Stark, where's my flying car?" Steve said playfully. "Your dad promised us flying cars by now!" Tony rolled his eyes and muttered about old guys and existing traffic congestion and bad drivers, and retreated.

"Then that punk tried to enlist--again," Bucky said, shaking his head. Bucky had gone on with the date after Steve abandoned him, (and what had Steve been thinking? Bucky had been shipped out the next day with the 107th) this time with two dates. They'd been pinned down by the Germans at Azzano, then a strange new tank--what turned out to be one of the massive HYDRA Uber tanks--fired on the Germans and took the US soldiers prisoner.

"I thought HYDRA was Nazi," Colin said, startled. Bucky shook his head.

"That was when HYDRA struck out on its own," Bucky said. "They'd been working with the Nazis, thought to be part of the party, but they had their own ambition. That tank. Fuck." He shook his head, still awed at the memory. "It was easily three times the size of a regular tank. I about pissed myself when I saw it. We took one out in Greece, remember, Steve?"

Steve snorted. "One. And we were lucky there." The soldiers were taken to a HYDRA weapons facility in the Austrian Alps and used as slave labor. He'd been beaten half to death by the colonel there, but his fellow POWs had gotten revenge, setting up an accident that killed the colonel. When Bucky had gotten too weak to work, he'd been turned over to Armin Zola for experimentation, which is where he'd been given the supersoldier serum that Red Skull had concocted. "Among other things," Bucky murmured and there was a sterile silence. Bucky stayed mute.

"By this time, I'd gotten to take my act on the road and found out about the 107th," Steve said quietly. "They weren't going to mount a rescue operation," he said, voice hard and steely. "So Howard Stark piloted me in and I parachuted."

"Where'd you get the combat gear?" I asked, diverted. Bucky looked over.

"Uh, I'd already had the shield," he said fidgeting. Bucky looked like he was putting pieces together.

"But you were what, with the USO? You 'borrow' the helmet from somebody else?" he asked.

"Uh--" I gave my husband a look. This was going to be a whopper.

"It was a prop in the show," he whispered, and Bucky exploded. Colin and I were treated to an extensive list of Steve's shortcomings and a general assertion of his idiocy. I rubbed my eyes with my hand and tried not to laugh. When Bucky ran down, finally, muttering about how he could have made holes in those props with his fingers before his metal arm, Colin tried to redirect the conversation.

"Yeah, so I woke up once and thought I was hallucinating," Bucky said, shaking his head. "But the hallucination was ripping open the straps that were keeping me on the table. It was so weird. I had to look up at him. It was the first time since we'd met that that happened. I'd always looked up to him, but never at him." He smiled a little. "The first thing he said was 'I thought you were dead.'"

"You said, 'I thought you were smaller,'" Steve said, and they smiled at each other.

"The rest of the POWs were escaping and raising hell," Bucky said, "and Steve managed to haul my sorry ass out of there. Red Skull and Zola got away."

"Did he really have a red skull?" Colin asked, leaning forward.

Bucky shuddered. "Sure looked like it. He had this really life-like mask on. Then while he and Steve were bantering" he rolled his eyes "he took it off. His nose was gone, which was ...unsettling. He had no hair or eyebrows. I think the skin was red, a really vibrant red, because it stood out even in all the chaos and the fire and smoke. He had eyelids and lips, so yeah, it was skin," he said, nodding as he thought about it.

"You asked if I had one of those too," Steve said, chuckling.

"It was a logical question," Bucky insisted, and both Colin and I smiled. Then they talked about the long trek back to the American camp and the formation of the Howling Commandos.

"That was DumDum Dugan, Jim Morita, Jacques Dernier, Gabe Jones, James Montgomery Falsworth, and you two?" Colin asked, and the boys nodded.

They told stories about the missions they'd undertaken, the HYDRA bases they'd taken out. Then the train job. Steve quietly described watching Bucky fall, helpless to save him. It still made him cry, all these years later. Then Bucky just said he'd bounced off the side of the mountain, which was where he'd lost his arm, his discovery by the Soviets, being dragged off. He'd thought he'd be a POW again, but then he woke to see the face of his mad tormentor, Zola, and realized his ordeal was just starting.

He glossed over the training, but he told Colin the truth about how he was brainwashed and conditioned, the triggers, how they wiped his memory and kept him in cryo due to his instability. I'd heard all this before, but some of the detail hadn't come out in the court martial and was news to Colin, and we had to pause once when he threw up in the trash can. Then they described the events in D.C., how Secretary Pierce had been a HYDRA mole in SHIELD and what Project Insight was meant to do. Insight was another one of Tony's less thoughtful creations. How the Winter Soldier had fought Captain America. Steve huffed a laugh, and we all looked at him.

"During the war, Howard once told me that HYDRA wasn't going to be coming after me with a knife. But there you were," he told his friend fondly. "Knife in hand. Both hands, come to think of it." Bucky gave him a look that said "the things you choose to remember aren't always the most helpful" and went back to the story, ending when he pulled Steve out of the Potomac.

"Why did you do that, if you didn't remember him?" Colin said, leaning forward, completely drawn in by the memories.

"He knew me," Bucky said, frowning. "I didn't remember him, but he knew me. This guy in a dumb suit."

"Hey!" Steve interjected. "I reclaimed that from the Smithsonian just for you!"

"And I just knew that he was important." Bucky shook his head at his best friend. "You'd have done better just to have come as yourself. It wasn't after I saw your face that I started to think..." After that, he'd misted away, roaming the world, working so hard on recovering his memories. He'd had to relearn how to be an independent person again, ending up in Romania, still appreciating the luxury of doing what he wanted. "It's the little things," he explained to Colin. "Choosing whether or not to buy a plum. Making decisions about furnishing my apartment. Being able to walk away from a confrontation." That had ended after the UN had been bombed.

"What happened when you went home?" Colin asked.

"I found this senior citizen rifling through the stuff in my apartment," he said with exasperation. "Then the cops, and this guy dressed in a cat costume who was trying to kill me with his bare hands." He shook his head. "He asked me later that if I wasn't guilty why I ran." He rolled his eyes, and we laughed. And he told about how Stark had tracked them to the old HYDRA base in Siberia. About the Winter Guard, and Zemo's purpose in drawing them there. How the truth about the death of Tony's parents came out and the vicious fight that came after.

"I never saw Steve fight like that," he murmured. "I really thought he was going to kill Stark." There was a pause as we all considered this.

"What happened?" Colin asked softly.

"I told him that Bucky hadn't been himself, that he couldn't stop, and for a moment I thought I'd gotten through to him," Steve said quietly. "But he just said, 'I don't care. He killed my mom.' The fight was on, and I just... snapped. Nobody wanted to hear about how Bucky had been the victim, made into a tool, that he had no agency, couldn't say no. The government wasn't going to do right by him, not even give him a lawyer. He's a citizen, a war hero, and they were going to make him disappear. I thought that they'd kill him as soon as they could. He was supposed to have died in Romania. I was desperate." He inhaled sharply, and I took his hand in both of mine. They were icy cold. "And then Tony kicked him when he was down. Blasted his arm off. And I couldn't stop myself. The Sokovia Accords were named after a place where we'd done huge damage...because Stark created something he couldn't control. Out of the best intentions, grant you, but it was a disaster, back to front."

"Dr Banner helped with that, didn't he?"

Steve nodded. "Stark talked him into it, but he didn't have to push very hard. We try to do good," he said on a sigh. "But we make mistakes and we pay for them. Sometimes we have to pay for a very long time. So all that came to the surface. And we escaped, got to where Bucky could get some help."

"Wakanda." Steve nodded. "But the king was trying to kill Bucky."

"He'd followed us to Siberia," Bucky said. "He heard Zemo talking about how he'd set them up. He chose... to move ahead rather than staying in the past. He kept Zemo from killing himself and delivered him to the authorities. And he took me to his kingdom for help. I couldn't stand knowing that anybody could trigger me if they had the words. They didn't know how to deal with the brainwashing right away, so I went back into cryo." He looked at the ceiling. "It was the only time that it was my choice. They thawed me out when they had a solution. It was a surgery and then psychological work. Then things were worked out with the government and I could come back."

Colin asked Steve and me questions about Bucky's return to the US, having heard that I'd let him live in my house and funded his therapy. "Did you know then that he'd killed Howard Stark, your mentor?"

"I did."

"How did you deal with that? Everybody I talked to said that Howard Stark was your mentor and that you idolized him."

"I did," I said, nodding. "But when I heard about the brainwashing and it was demonstrable that Bucky had not been able to stop himself. And I remembered that he'd known Mr Stark during the war as well. That made me wonder what it had been like, for Bucky, having to perform that particular assassination. It still wasn't easy, but he had fought for our country, been a POW, illegally experimented on, captured, and tortured... I just thought that he deserved a chance. He was owed...something. I didn't know at that time about what had happened after they tore up the airport in Leipzig. And I didn't know that Mr Stark had still been working on supersoldier serum. He'd told me he'd stopped."

"You don't approve?"

"No. These two guys are only ones who were given the treatment or a variant and remained sane and without disfigurements. Erskine chose Steve because of the man he was, and the military still tried to persuade him to choose...someone else. A typical soldier, one who would follow orders without question. HYDRA chose the Winter Guard because they had no conscience. You really can't trust people to have that kind of power, to create people with Steve's physical abilities, and use it altruistically. It's too dangerous."

Colin asked about Bucky's enhancements. Bucky shrugged. "Strength, durability, speed, agility. I learned marksmanship in the Army. I learned martial arts, language, acrobatics, and assassination from HYDRA." I knew he was leaving out a good chunk of his abilities, but I agreed with his decision not to disclose everything. There weren't that many questions after that, some about his relationship with Natalia, and Bucky relaxed. We broke for a late lunch, and this time Bucky ate enthusiastically.

Then it was back to work, but this time it was Steve's turn in the hot seat. He took the chair Bucky had occupied, and Bucky and I hunkered down in the big chair together. The difference between sitting with Bucky and Steve was that I didn't sit on Bucky's lap. Steve looked at us, amused, then got up again as Colin looked puzzled as he turned on the recorder and double-checked that we didn't object to being recorded.

"Gotta ask. Is there something going on between the three of you?" Colin asked Steve. "Because you don't seem concerned that your wife is snuggled up to your best friend."

Steve rolled his eyes, rummaged in the cupboard, and tossed us a bag of Smartfood white cheddar popcorn, dropping off napkins as he settled back down. "No, they're here for moral support and to provide embarrassing stories about things I'd like to remember otherwise," he said dryly. "In about fifteen minutes, they're going to be eating popcorn, entertained by my answers to your questions, and they will probably pelt me at some point with the popcorn."

"Depends on how much popcorn is left," Bucky said thoughtfully. "If we're down to the bottom, probably not." Steve laughed.

"But no, I'm not worried," Steve said. "She's my wife and he's my best friend. I trust them with my life. Emma and Buck are friends independent of me, and I like that. It's mostly due to Emma's habit of nurturing injured animals."

Torburn snorted, rolling over, and Bucky laughed. "Once she takes you under her wing and you earn her loyalty, it's absolute. And she's extremely protective of the people she cares about."

"Which reminds me," Steve said, "I don't know if Spiderman's agreed to talk to you--"

"He has," Colin said, nodding.

"Well, I'd just like to say that he's on the young side, so far pretty inexperienced. So I think it's best that you're warned. Emma's kind of like his superhero mom and she won't take it well if you take advantage of him." Colin looked at me nervously, and I nodded.

"Yes. Steve and Bucky are grown men and they have a wider experience than Spiderman has so far. So if he's treated unfairly, be warned that I will salt the earth with your ashes," I stated, and smiled. Colin recoiled slightly.

He hastily confirmed details about Steve's birthday and early life. Seventeen minutes after they start, Bucky and I start in on the popcorn and he starts chipping in with stories. They're mainly about Steve's absolute refusal to put up with bullies.

"It got to the point when every time he disappeared for awhile, I started checking the alleys," he said, grabbing a napkin. "Sure enough, there he'd be, getting beat up by a bully. Which meant that I had to beat up the bully." He sighed.

Steve rolled his eyes. "It wasn't that bad--"

"Sure it was, pal," Bucky said confidently. "Remember when you called out that bully in the theater who was mouthing off in the movie theater during the war? And where did I find you? You'd grabbed a garbage pail lid as a shield."

"I had him on the ropes," Steve said testily.

"Sure you did, pal," Bucky said soothingly. Colin then asked questions about being selected by Dr Erskine, training at Camp Lehigh. Steve rattled along, saying that the moment that kind of clinched his selection was when he jumped to cover a dummy grenade while everybody else ran.

"Let me guess. You thought it was live," Bucky said in a jaundiced manner, plinking an unpopped popcorn kernel at him. Steve looked up at the ceiling innocently and went on. It was interesting to hear about the procedure, then chasing down Erskine's assassin, then being given the choice between being a lab rat or a USO act. I gave him a hard look when he mentioned that choice. He ignored that too. Some questions about Peggy Carter; I think Colin expected me to be upset that they'd be talking about Steve's first love. Then over the same ground we'd covered with Bucky, just faster, then hearing about the assault on the final HYDRA base, the fight on the Valkyrie (which Bucky had helped to build during his captivity) and ditching it into the arctic ice. As Colin had him describe his mindset, I think it occurred to Bucky and me at the same time that Steve had probably been suicidal then. He could have jumped out, but he drove that plane down into the ice. Bucky and I locked eyes, but neither of us said anything. Colin looked at us curiously, but we went back to listening to Steve describe being defrosted without saying anything. When Steve was talking about knowing something was wrong when he woke up, it was fascinating to realize how fast his brain worked. He was suspicious because he remembered the game, but it was the appearance of the woman that really set him off; there were a lot of little mistakes, like her hair being left long and on the collar, her tie, even (he blushed slightly) her bra was wrong.

Then the events leading up to the Chitauri invasion, his side of the destruction of SHIELD, the Ultron incident. Then the mess with the Sokovia Accords, and going on the run after leaving Bucky in Waconda. "It was around that time that the two of you met, right?" Colin asked, pointing at the two of us. Steve smiled. "How did that happen?"

"He snuck up on me and tripped a booby trap," I said with relish. "First time I saw him he was dangling from my tree." Bucky started to laugh, and Steve and I related how I'd made the shield, the mob scene at my place, escaping, Thor's rescue. Then our stories diverged until he and Thor arrived at my house.

"Ok, I'm going to stop right here and catch up with Emma, since the story of the two of you gets going right about here," Colin said, and verified my birthday and early history. I was able to bypass the worst of my personal history since my best friends hadn't met me yet. I did tell a few mildly embarrassing incidents just to fit in, though. Information about my education, working for Mr Stark.

"I'm sorry, my life was pretty boring until I met Steve in the jungle," I said apologetically. Bucky tugged my ponytail and made me sit in the hot seat since I was being interviewed. There wasn't really room in the big chair for both of them; neither is tiny. Steve got up for another bag of popcorn and Bucky got another chair. Colin was very well informed about my accident at work; Stark had been quite candid about that and the extremely hostile beginning to our association. Thor getting me the dogs, I said that they were smarter than normal dogs but didn't go into detail. Me joining the Avengers, the occasionally rocky road that turned out to be, then questions about getting married. Colin didn't ask sensitive questions about our marriage, but did ask what happened. Steve took point on that and I listened as he described his shocking and rapid decline, the treatment, and his 'death'.

"What did you do?" Colin asked, fascinated.

"Well, basically, I grieved," I said simply. "Our cat died the same month, on top of Steve, so it was a very difficult time. It was about a month before I went back to work, and I kept my head down until it was almost Halloween." I took a deep breath. "Then I got a call to go to the clinic, which was never good. I went into a room, and there he was. He remembered me from the forest, that I'd made his new shield, but nothing else. Tony was waiting outside the room and I made him summarize how this had happened."

"And that's when you found out who'd been in on it."

"Yep. Everybody but Thor and Sif, who'd been on Asgard, and Spiderman, because he doesn't keep secrets very well from me. They didn't know if his memory would come back." I went on to explain how I'd left and backpacked down the coast, how the dogs and I'd washed up in Colorado. Tony, Steve, and Bucky's visit.

"How long did it take for your memory to come back?" Colin asked Steve.

"About a year. I did lose some memories and some I remember because people described them to me, but I've got almost all of it."

"So then what happened?" Colin asked me.

"Bucky apologized for his part in it, and then asked if I'd help make his new arm, I said I would, and ended up relocating to New York, became a street-level hero." I smiled at Colin. "You kind of know the rest. I don't know if I ever thanked you for my nickname. It could have been so much worse." He grinned at me. Then he asked Steve and Bucky for their side of that disaster. They answered simply and honestly, explaining why they'd acted as they did. Colin asked me a few more questions about my life in New York and how I'd started associating with Steve again.

He listened to my story about the subway sickness and nodded. "And what led to you getting remarried? Because now, I've gotta say that throws me for a loop."

"Well, it was gradual, I'm not quite certain that I can pin down a time. But he'd shown me very clearly that he'd changed. He treats me like an equal now. I didn't realize at the time, but before, he didn't. That was huge. And he never presumed that we'd get back together. I made the move each time."

"Cap, you're smiling," Colin observed.

"She asked me to marry her this time," he said, proudly puffing his chest. I laughed.

"Yeah, but he didn't answer when she asked. She thought he was turning her down," Bucky mentioned, smirking. Steve scowled at him and Bucky burst out laughing, so I told the story--minus the bit about the bj. There are things the general public doesn't need to know. Bucky told the story of the wedding and the lunch afterward. He smiled at me. "There are some things that are just meant to be."

"Now one more big thing, then I think we're pretty much done," Colin said. "What's this about the arena?" We looked at each other and I got up to snuggle with Steve in the chair. We had to explain the whole thing, from Bruce and Thor disappearing to finding Odin in the park, our little trip to Asgard, and the arena. "I understand you were hurt pretty severely, Pop-Emma," he said.

"I answer to either," I said with a little smile. "It was pretty bad, I hurt a lot and didn't think I'd survive. The Hulk was nearest, so I asked him for a coup de grace before I passed out. Apparently that was the wrong thing to do, then I woke up in the equivalent of an ER." Steve and Bucky explained what had happened in between, and then how we won our freedom.

"And talk about the lamest proposal of marriage in the history of the world," Bucky muttered. Steve turned bright red and had to explain, then I followed up with the fact that he'd bought a ring prior to our abrupt relocation and asked me again later. Colin was laughing.

"I have to say that this has been the most extraordinary group of interviews I've ever had," he said. "The triumphs and the devastation were kind of to be expected with superheroes, but the pratfalls and the jokes and... just the little moments have been so enlightening." He looked at me. "I know people are worried about what I'll write, but I promise I'm not out to do a hatchet job on any of you." I nodded.

He turned off the recorder, offered us his cards, and after handshakes all around, he left and we cleaned up the popcorn.


	60. Publication day

The next day, Foggy called, with some really good news. The military wanted to settle, quietly and discreetly; the only condition was that the terms be sealed. "No," I said to Foggy fretfully. "The whole point was to provide myself with some public protection against them, so they can't sweep it under the rug. I want a public apology and public assurance that they're not going to vivisect me in the future."

"Well, that might be a problem, Emma, but if you're committed to going to court, there will be a public record of what happened, which will also provide you protection." We spoke a little more; the government had made some overtures but there was not firm terms to discuss.

"Well, this one is more for all of us rather than just me, so I'd be happy with some guarantees that the civil rights of supers won't be compromised, some form of compensation for everybody affected, and a public apology. And lawyer fees for you and Matt." I smiled. Foggy was amused and we chatted a bit before hanging up. I dressed for work, then put my Poppy costume in its bag; I was starting up patrols again. Steve was taking me to dinner, and the dogs and I would be home late.

The next few days passed busily, and Colin had some follow up questions. He asked for more details about what I did after Steve came back and why, my mental state at the time, the various other times I'd done the road trip thing. He asked for my thoughts on my fellow Avengers and asked for my memories of Comic Con, also wanting to know about our spectacular costumes. They were still discussed in the fandom. Finally, he asked me for a final statement, something I'd like everyone to know. I thought hard about his questions and my responses before emailing him again. He did that to everyone; he'd taken a leave of absence from the Bugle so that he could finish this quickly.

I had an email from Diana that the Justice League was building a space station; they were calling it the Watchtower, so that real time threats could be assessed. That sounded very cool. "Why don't we have one?" I asked Tony at a meeting. "That would be so cool."

"Yeah, it would be fun to play around in zero gravity," Clint said playfully, tugging Natalia's hair.

"It's micro g, not zero g, and we don't have one because we're based here. The League doesn't have a clubhouse," Tony said, harassed. "I am not spending money just so you can see what it's like to screw in space." I laughed, and Tony rolled his eyes.

Valentine's Day arrived, and I'd made Steve cufflinks with my poppy sigil; at the heart of the flower that was fully opened was a star. We came home after work and I found a trail of rose petals leading from the door to the dining room, which was set with my china, sterling, and crystal. The linen tablecloth and napkins were immaculate, and candles in crystal holders were waiting to be lit. The little dogs had apparently been by to visit the big dogs, who had stayed home that day, and they had eaten quite a few of the rose petals. We had to clean that up first. Then Steve heated an array of finger foods, which we fed to each other between kisses, then went upstairs, where there were more candles and the bed was turned down invitingly. After, we drank champagne and he fed me truffles. After assuring me he loved his gift, he gave me a long massage, then later, my present: a drawing of the two of us he'd done. It was from a photograph Bucky had taken of us at the restaurant after we got married; he'd been laughing and the picture was a little blurry. It was the moment after I'd fed him a bite of the cake; I'd pressed my fingers to his lips and he'd given me such a look of love that I'd teared up. I promptly placed the silver frame on my bedside table; I'd take it into work the next day and put it where I could see it as I worked.

At the beginning of March, toward the end of an Avengers meeting, Tony thumped a box on the conference table. "Colin James sent us Advanced Reading Copies of the biography," he said, opening it and sliding books around the table to each of us. "Anybody got anything else for the meeting? Read it, if there are any errors, call James so they can be corrected before it's ready for printing. Are we done?" We were done. Steve, Bucky, and I raced out of the tower, stopping for a bite to eat. We'd never shoveled our food away that fast. Then Bucky came home with us, and the dogs slept in front of the fire, periodically jostling for the best place, as we finally opened the books. It was cozy in the house; rain fell outside, but it was warm and quiet inside with the fire and the dogs and the company. I flicked a throw over my legs and curled into the corner of the sofa; Steve took his favorite leather chair, and Bucky took the other end of the couch.

With trepidation, I opened the book to the introduction.

"I'll be the first to admit that my personal history with superheroes has been rocky and I'm not their biggest fan. About six years ago, my only sister died on vacation in Chicago, the victim of a supervillain; Superman arrived too late to save her or the other victims. I started work at the Daily Bugle with the intent to put the city's heroes under the microscope, hold them accountable for their actions. Shine a light on them for the average citizen.

"What I found here was not what I expected. Starting with the street heroes, I found a great variety of personalities, from one guy with a mouth that won't shut up, to the occasionally lethal vigilante in Hells Kitchen, to a new hero who just wanted to help out. The Avengers were a monolith, the marquee superhero team in town, always controversial. As I increased my familiarity with the street-level heroes, I also came in contact with the Avengers. And I had to think that perhaps they weren't as bad as I'd thought.

"Then weird stuff started to happen, what we know now to be the precursor to the Kree-Skrull invasion attempt. During that time, I saw the heroes come out in force to defend the city and its people. Street level heroes like Poppy, who patrolled from the roof tops and provided actual aliens to the authorities as well as a way to prove that we were human. The big superheroes, like Batman, who provided tech to the defenders, both civilian and superhero. And the Avengers came out full force. When the battle came, the cities' heroes worked with emergency responders and the National Guard to help evacuate the city and defend it against the alien threat. The conflict drew supers from all over the country, and the Avengers led the battle and provided assistance to the fallen. Everywhere you looked, amid the terror, you could see bravery and determination and the refusal to fail. We achieved victory, but not without a high cost. Some supers were killed, others came very close to death. Every one of them had injuries of some kind. In the aftermath, when the Avengers led the superhero community efforts to aid with cleanup and rescue, I started to wonder why they did it. What made them risk their lives when there was a good chance that not only would they not be thanked, they'd be vilified for one reason or another? And so I got the idea for this book.

"The Avengers were the obvious choice of focus. Larger than life, highly publicized victories and mistakes dot their record. So who were they, really? Everybody knows about Tony Stark, former weapons manufacturer taken hostage by terrorists who quit making weapons and focused on becoming our most high-profile superhero in his Iron Man guise. The recovery of Steve Rogers, the first superhero, made headlines around the world, and this popular veteran from the Greatest Generation has come to symbolize integrity and sacrifice. But the men behind the public faces are infinitely more fascinating, as are the stories of their teammates. Read on. Check your assumptions at the door. Because for all the public acclaim and highly visible wrongs, you will discover the surprisingly human side of the Avengers and what makes them tick. Stark spoke to me with quite astonishing openness, making his motives easier to understand and giving you a look into the mind of this genius. His best friend, Colonel Rhodes, describes what it's like to run around after Stark but also describes his distinguished career serving in the military. We find out what happened to the Hulk. Two members who are more comfortable in the shadows, the infamous Black Widow and master archer Hawkeye come forward to discuss their lives and why she joined SHIELD as the result of an encounter in Budapest with her partner Hawkeye. Learn about Thor and why this Asgardian prince would take such an interest in the people of Earth. What are the secrets of his signature weapon, the hammer Mjolnir? Find out about Falcon, another veteran whose service continues even after tours of duty as a PJ and the loss of his best friend. You'll be charmed by the earnest nature and dogged devotion to service of the youngest Avenger, Spiderman. The twins, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, describe how they came to have powers and what made them join the Avengers, as well as the extraordinary tale of Pietro's...rejuvenation. You get the sense that there's dead, and then there's Avengers dead. Meet Ant-Man, an engineer and former thief with a heart of gold. And you'll get to meet Captain America, his lifelong best friend James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes, and his wife, Emma Harrington-Rogers, also known as The Armorer, Paladin, and Poppy.

"While each of the Avengers is fascinating and would be fine subjects for individual biographies, it is the last three who are the most compelling, in many ways. You'll read about the early years of the two friends from Brooklyn and what happened during the war years. Everybody knows the general outlines, but here you'll find details and stories that the two friends have told publicly for the first time. How Barnes went from war hero to shadowy master assassin to Avenger is revealed in full, an engrossing and disturbing story all by itself. It is also not for the faint of heart; a trigger warning is provided before that gruesome account. And in many ways the heart, not just of Steve Rogers' life, but also of the Avengers, Emma Harrington-Rogers will be introduced to you, a puzzling woman of great talents, abilities, and intelligence, who is quick with a quip and to admit her own failings. Her long-running feud with Tony Stark is explained by both of them, and the titanic clashes she's had with members of the team will be described. King T'Challa of Wakanda declined to be interviewed for the biography, but you will meet this enigmatic ruler and discover what lead him from a path of vengeance to providing aid to his enemy.

"You may or may not be a fan of superheroes, and there is plenty in this book to support your views. But I ask you to read with an open mind and a willingness to learn. Because for all their awesome abilities, they are surprisingly human, with the same fears many of us have (Steve Rogers doesn't like spiders), troubles (more than one Avenger has sought help for PTSD), regrets (Clint Barton wishes he'd never moved his family to the Seattle area) and failings (the quick tempers of Stark and Harrington-Rogers springs to mind). They have also been gifted (or cursed) with extraordinary skills and abilities, and have the desire to help others despite the personal cost.

"So turn the page, and get ready for a fascinating, bumpy ride."

After each of us read the introduction, Steve smiled. "That sounds kind of like we're exhibits in a freak show," he said mildly. Bucky snorted.

"We saw that one in Coney Island once, you wanted to get it shut down," he said fondly.

"I was afraid they'd put me in there with them," Steve said. "The prose is a little purple. I hope he tones it down a bit."

"Well, let's read on, and see what he has to say about us," I said nervously, and we flipped pages to come to chapter one, which started off with an explanation of the major shadow organizations in the stories. SHIELD was explained as being formed from the wartime Strategic Scientific Reserve and its founders, Peggy Carter, Howard Stark, and Chester Philips identified and brief biographies provided. Then there was an explanation of HYDRA, and a surprisingly well-detailed threat assessment of its remaining members and influences provided. An explanation of the role of the World Security Council and the formation of the Avengers Initiative tied this chapter up. Bucky and Steve agreed that it was a well-researched chapter. We turned to Chapter Two: The Fast Times and Temptations of Tony Stark.

Ooh. This should be good.


	61. The big book of truth

Tony's chapter starts out with two photographs: him as a baby (chubby, sweet, and harmless looking) and as Iron Man following the fight at Leipzig (mask off, grieving, bruised). There's a recap of his early life, his precocious intellect and education, and it's unfortunate that Mrs Stark doesn't come off very well. Quotations from those who knew Tony's parents (they had non-disclosure agreements with their household employees before they were popular, so no insight from the staff) pain the picture of a mother who loved her son but who was ineffectual brokering a peace between her son and husband, a woman who knew her place. Ineffectual, but, as one observer noted, "she had a good life." Tony's not going to like that. Howard Stark is explained pretty well, I think. From his poor beginning to the wealthy company he built, his life is a study in ambition and intellect. Colin doesn't hold anything back and has somehow learned about his continuation of the supersoldier program. And the O lab at work. Shit. Colin's studied Tony closely; it's evident that he's not just rehashing facts but is also interested in why Tony's the walking, talking, thinking human car wreck he is. His battle with the bottle is described as both a coping mechanism that failed spectacularly and a self-punishment. His relationship with Pepper (who declined interview requests) is astutely dissected. There's a whiff of slut-shaming about Tony's long string of women, but his attempts to find meaning in his life are treated more gently. The kidnapping by the terrorists, shutting down the weapons division; these are treated with compassion but the unexplored consequences of his actions--like the unemployment of all those scientists--are not ignored.

I'm jolted to see my name, although it's stupid; I actually go back father with Tony than anybody, except for Jim, who he met at MIT. I'd forgotten just how far, though. In my senior year of college, a group of job applicants were getting a tour through Stark Tech, and I was among them. The tour had ended in the lobby, and one of the lab managers was giving some concluding remarks. According to the source, Tony had approached me and asked me out for drinks. "Apparently his mistake was to imply that he could get her a job if she did. She gave him a withering look and turned him down. He didn't get rejected much, accustomed to scoring victories with his looks, charm, and quick wit; in fact the heir-apparent usually had too many women wanting to date him. He brushed it off at the time, but the source speculated that he carried a grudge."

"You never mentioned that," Steve said, looking up at me.

"I don't remember that happening," I said, puzzled. "I mean, I remember the tour, a bunch of soon-to-be-grads were invited in, but I don't remember anybody hitting on me. Huh."

We went back to reading. There's a good character analysis about the impact that his distant, never-pleased father and loving but disengaged mother had, the isolation of being a genius, a star engineer, and the head of one of the most successful companies in the world. "Without real peers, Stark could have gone possibly one of two ways," Colin's final analysis read. "He could have given up and withdrew, a weird Howard Hughes-like recluse, or embraced what set him apart, as he has done. And today we see Tony the showman, open to public scrutiny, celebrated for his considerable achievements and damned for his mistakes, which are usually, to be blunt, pretty spectacular fuckups. Ultimately, he cannot be condensed into a cool analysis in a SHIELD recruitment folder. Since the collapse of SHIELD, he has poured money into the Avengers, and thus, into the protection of the rest of us. Trying to live up to his father's long-shadowed legacy while creating his own is part of it, but it doesn't go far enough. He has a driving need to atone for past mistakes, and this sometimes makes him blind to the impact his current actions have, and the cycle continues."

Huh. "This seems weirdly incomplete," Bucky says flatly after finishing. Steve nods, and I look at the Table of Contents.

"So it looks like we all get our chapters, then the real discussion of the Avengers commences," I said.

The next chapter was on Scott; nobody had a bad thing to say about Ant-Man; even his ex had only exasperated comments. "Scott's probably the nicest out of all of us," Bucky muttered. The chapter with the Hulk was pretty masterful, considering that nobody revealed Bruce's name or background and that neither one of them was available for interviews. Jim and Sam's chapters highlight their military service and records; their bravery is lauded, and Jim's long friendship with Tony is analyzed, while Sam's friendship is zingier since it started around the epic takedown of HYDRA. Clint is up next; he's always been really reticent to discuss his past, so I'm eager to read his story.

It starts out with his early life and training in the circus, his hearing loss is mentioned but it isn't over emphasized. "I didn't know he was 85% deaf," Steve muttered, turning the page.

"I saw him buying hearing aid batteries once," I commented, and both boys looked up, surprised. "He never said anything about it that I ever heard," I said, "so I didn't mention it." His recruitment into SHIELD is described, as well as how he met Laura, and the tragic loss of his family. Colin is sure leaving out a lot for the Avengers part, I think, as I turn next to Thor. There's more fanboy tone here than anywhere else so far; his privileged childhood, his brother, his distant father (Odin looks pretty good here) and his strong-willed mother are introduced, as are Sif and the Warriors Three. A tidy recap of the events that got him banished to Earth and his marriage to Sif and the birth of their son round out this chapter. Peter is up next, and I sit up straight. It's a short chapter, since, like Hulk's, his secret identity isn't revealed and there's not a lot of backstory available. Colin notes that he seems young and idealistic, but that his need to use his powers to help are his core values. I nod at that and relax. So far so good.

The twins are up next, but Pietro's big story is apparently being saved for later. There's a bit about Vision; his ending is alluded to but not specified. T'Challa is up next, his close relationship with his father and his devotion to his country taking center stage. Then there's Black Widow. We get to meet Natasha, master assassin, reformed by Clint, who gave her a second chance, her time at SHIELD, her breathtakingly bold release of all the secrets on the internet. There's rumors of her involvement with Hulk's alter ego as well as confirmed information about her relationships with Bucky and Clint. And then the bombshell; she fully discusses her life as Natalia Romanova. Born in 1928 in Stalingrad, her father had worked in the Communist party hierarchy before being caught up in one of Stalin's purges, accused of being a traitor, and sent to a gulag where he died. Her mother, who worked as a party secretary, was distrusted and reduced to low-level work; she died of pneumonia one winter, and she and her little sister were turned out of their apartment onto the street. The winter was brutal; Natalia tried her hardest to care for her sister but woke up one morning in an alley doorway to find that her sister had frozen to death in the night. She was taken by the authorities to the Red Room, where she received some form of treatments, not the supersoldier serum, that aided her longevity and skill. It described how thoroughly she was brainwashed and trained in assassination and espionage, partly by Bucky, and my role in how she recovered those memories is made clear. Temper, temper, Emma. The chapter ends with the mention that I'd won damages from her as a result of her outing my secret identity. 

Steve is up next. Colin describes how Steve's dad died before he was born, how he was raised solely by his mother, the list of his childhood ailments, which seemed to include damn near everything but polio, his friendship with Bucky, his mother's death from tuberculosis. His education at art school, and how he kept trying and failing to enlist after the US went to war. How he was selected for the SuperSoldier serum, his stint as a bond sales promoter, his single-handed rescue of the 107th and recovery of Bucky, the formation of the Howling Commandos, Steve's relationship with Peggy Carter. The excitement of knocking over HYDRA facilities, and the loss of Bucky... that fateful final raid and confrontation with the Red Skull, and the plunge of the Valkyrie into polar ice. Steve's recovery and difficult integration in to modern society, joining and destroying SHIELD, finding that Bucky had somehow survived the fall from the train and what it took to get him back. There were a lot of anecdotes about Steve, not just from Bucky, but from pretty much everybody he'd ever met, it seemed. Unlike Bucky and me, Colin came right out and wondered if Steve had ditched the bomber the way that he had not as a kamikazi sort of sacrifice, but as an unconfessed suicide. When I read that, I looked at him; he might not have gotten there quite yet as his face was clear and untroubled. I got up to make coffee. It was two a.m. and we had a long way to go still. Then the chapter related his time as Nomad following the very public division of the Avengers and the breakout from the Raft, where he wandered, disillusioned, to help people he came across. And how he met me. The story sounded a lot more charming when Colin told it. The Austria thing, then the strengthening of our relationship once I became an Avenger, our first marriage. What happened at the end, and how we reconnected and remarried. Somehow he managed to make it romantic despite all the starts and stops.

I turned the page to read about Bucky and his early years, how he'd been drafted and risen quickly to the rank of Sargent. The warning that Colin had mentioned was evident here for the graphic nature of Bucky's experiences. His capture and torture by HYDRA and Zola and rescue by his best friend, his time as one of the Howling Commandos, the fall from the train and recovery by the Soviets, being turned over to HYDRA. I found that having heard it before didn't really help any. In black and white, it was still as awful as the first time I'd learned about his treatment. His missions as the Winter Soldier were only vaguely described because they were still classified, for the most part, although his assassination of the Starks was explained matter-of-factly. Then there was his encounters with Steve, how he finally broke free from HYDRA, how Steve tracked him down and protected him. The government didn't come out too well there. Going back into cryo, the first time it had ever been his choice. Coming out, being repatriated, getting his new arm and eventually moving to Seattle and joining the Avengers with his friend. "What started as much as a 'fuck you' to Stark's objections as well as a real desire to provide assistance to a veteran (honorably discharged) Emma Harrington fabricated Barnes' new metal arm. It was, as they say, the beginning of a beautiful friendship. What they've ended up with is a tight triad, each having the others' backs, the bonds of friendship are between Barnes and Rogers and Barnes and Harrington, each independent of the romantic relationship between Rogers and Harrington. Sorry to disappoint those in search of juicy gossip, but there are no threesomes going on here. It's not the way the friendship is, and they once caught a Skrull because he made that assumption. The trust and affection is palpable when you're in the same room as the three of them, and they truly are the modern Three Musketeers; no one goes in alone, and no one is left behind. Everybody is supported when they need help. This was immensely helpful during the interviews done for this book; reactions and comments were instantaneous and illuminating. When Barnes described his treatment at the hands of HYDRA, Harrington would pat his shoulder so he knew he wasn't alone anymore, and Rogers leaned over his wife on one occasion to do the same, as well as verbally supporting his buddy. To be quite honest, observing their interactions makes anybody else feel excluded and frankly jealous of that level of...well, love. There's the romantic love of Harrington and Rogers, sure, but equally deep and strong is the platonic love each of them have for the others." 

"Aw," I murmured, and at his look, showed Bucky where I was.

"Yeah...that was nice," he said. "People still aren't going to believe we're not sleeping together, though." I shrugged. Steve shrugged, and caught up with us.

"I can see how it might look bad to somebody who doesn't know us," he said after a few minutes. "That's just the way it is. But where he describes that time that Bucky had his breakdown, and at other parts, Emma comes off much more as maternal rather than anything else."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "In Emma's chapter, there's a discussion about how she collects the wounded or vulnerable. Makes her sound like a kid with a box full of hurt baby birds."

"Wow, really looking forward to reading that now," I muttered, and he grinned at me.

"Buck up, doll, it's not so bad," he advised, and we all went back to reading.

It's excruciating to read about yourself, even if it's just a small chapter in a larger book. My background is not cool, and I really look like a dork. Tony mentioned the Rick Springfield concert, darn him. Colin describes my life pretty well, not shying away from the dad problem, and he must have talked to people in my hometown, because their stories are similar to the ones I've told, but have different viewpoints. The scene in the church is related; the parishioner describing me as a quiet child who, when pushed too far, was perhaps a little too forthright in defense of her mother and herself. I roll my eyes. My career is described very flatteringly; the accident is jarring, and Stark ends up looking pretty bad. The change in my personality, my retreat from everything to the rainforest is described, and by breezy account of how I met Captain America is related. Asgard and the Bifrost, Austria and the lab, repatriation is addressed forthrightly and I can't complain, even if he makes me sound like a wounded animal myself. I can't contest it, I knew what I was doing at the time. It's just that now everybody knows. My temper gets good play once the story moves to Seattle, my battles with Tony are perhaps a little overemphasized. The maternal relationship I have with Spiderman. And then there's Steve.

Colin James: What did you think when you met her?

Steve Rogers: That she was prettier and tougher than I'd expected.

CJ: Then what?

SR: I wondered what her story was. She seemed a little tragic. What was someone like here doing out in the middle of the rainforest, forging machetes and fixing trucks? It kinda made sense when she first mentioned Tony, though. He's a good man, but...let's just say he has some problems with interpersonal relationships.

CJ: When did you fall in love with her?

SR: That's hard to pin down. She's pretty captivating, and I was attracted to her for a long time. I acted on it at Comic Con; I could have just made myself scarce when the fangirls were after me, but...the kiss was impulsive, it was just...wow. But it was before that, after the Yucatan mission. She saved my life, and I was kind of a jerk. It's hard to owe somebody for that, and I panicked when she quit in the fight afterward. We haven't always treated her well, and she likes to get along, so she keeps it in until it's too much and then she explodes. After that, I was kind of afraid of pushing things. It wasn't until the photo shoot at Versailles that I took a chance. After the kiss, she told me, a little flirtatiously, a whole lot of sexy, to be careful or she'd fall in love with me. And I told her that maybe that was what I wanted. Because I did. It took more courage than I thought I had to knock on her door after that. I was ready to beg. But no begging was required. Thank God. I probably would have made a mess of that too."

CJ: What did you think when you saw Captain America in your booby trap?

Emma Harrington-Rogers: Where was the Winter Soldier? I felt he wasn't going to be thrilled about that. I didn't know then that he was in Wakanda for treatment.

CJ: Why did you help him?

EHR: It was the right thing to do.

CJ: Doing the right thing hasn't been easy, though.

EHR: No, but overall, it's been worth it.

CJ: When did you first fall in love with Captain Rogers?

EHR: Geeze, I don't really know. I've always thought highly of him. I think it was after ComicCon. He kissed me and there was such a fuss! Promotions was going on and on about how he'd need a girlfriend who was young and sexy who would look adoringly at him. That's not... me. And it really irritated me, for reasons I didn't want to think about in depth, so I took it as a blow to my ego. By the time we had the photo shoot in Versailles, though, I knew. I just wasn't going to do anything about it. After the kiss, I told him to be careful. It was kind of a joke, a way to get him to back off, because I didn't think he could possibly feel the same way. I was...surprised to hear that he did.

CJ: When did he ask you to marry him?

EHR: We were in the middle of a fight, of all things. Not us, it was a battle, I was trying to cut up a piece of sentient moss, I think. He just blurts out in front of god and everybody that he wants to marry me. I thought he'd finally cracked. (slight smile) But when we got home, he'd been serious. He had the ring ready (big smile).

CJ: Did you ever think about having kids?

EHR: (smile disappears) No, by the time we got together, I'd had a hysterectomy, so it wasn't possible. And in any case, it would be hard on the kid or kids to have parents who were active heroes. You'd be putting a target on them.

CJ: So when did you propose the second time?

SR: I didn't. She asked me. Amazingly.

CJ: Wow. When did this happen?

SR: There was a fundraiser at the Met to help businesses impacted by the Kree-Skrull battle, she was a donor, I was there with other supers to encourage donations. She looked stunning, and she took me aside to talk to me. I was completely off guard when she knelt in front of me and held out something. I didn't take it in immediately. She thought I was trying to figure out how to turn her down gently, but I was really just trying to remember my words. I was afraid I'd start squealing and flapping my hands. (smiles softly) She'd made my ring herself.

CJ: I can see where that was unexpected.

SR: Highly recommend it, though. It was the single best moment of my life. (pause) I had an engagement ring for her. I was planning on asking her later, once I felt that I'd showed her I'd changed, that she could really trust me again.

CJ: You didn't just give her the first one again?

SR: No, no. I wanted a new beginning. I didn't ask if she'd take back her first rings until recently. I wanted... I wanted to be sure I'd redeemed myself first.

CJ: Why the wedding at City Hall?

SR: That's what she'd wanted the first time, but it was a really big deal, everybody was excited, and I really wanted to see her walk down toward me in a special dress. I guess, kinda, to brag that this amazing woman had chosen me, a scrawny little nobody from Brooklyn. She came around to the idea of the wedding eventually, and I 'd forgotten how thorough she is when she gets involved in a problem. (shakes his head, a little unnerved) But this time, it was just really about the two of us. And we needed a witness, so Bucky, of course. It was her idea to surprise him. We didn't even tell people we were engaged until after we were married.

Bucky Barnes: Took me completely by surprise. I thought we were there because Emma had to testify in court or something. Stevie mentioned something about going out to lunch, after. I was astonished that it turned into a wedding, but thrilled. My two favorite people in the world. I don't believe in soul mates, but you spend enough time around them, it feels right. Like they really are meant to be together.

Aw, Bucky. I turned the page to start reading about the formation of the Avengers.


	62. Nick Fury's baby

"It all started with Nick Fury," the second part of the book began. "And it actually kicked off with Fury's attempted recruitment of the Hulk. That didn't go so well." Because nothing was publicly known about Bruce, the account kicked off with the destruction of a lab known to be experimenting with the effects of radiation on people for the military, under the aegis of General Ross, now our Secretary of State. What was not stated in the book was that Bruce had been working on an extension of Project Rebirth, the program which had transformed Steve, using bioengineering and gamma rays instead of SuperSoldier serum and VitaRays. Bruce had tested the formula on himself, a real throwback scientist. I had no room to speak, of course. We both had the mindset that it was ok to test one's work on oneself, a view that had largely disappeared because it could be freaking dangerous. It was a mindset that Stark shared as well, come to think of it. He'd Hulked out for the first time there, inadvertently hurting his girlfriend--Ross's daughter-- and others, and becoming a fugitive to avoid being pressed into becoming a weapon for the military. That was when Bruce, seeing no way out, had tried to kill himself with a gun in his mouth. The Hulk had spat it out, waded into the ocean, and walked to Europe. I'd been fascinated by this, and asked Bruce about the ocean floor, but he'd been frustratingly vague, saying only that it was cold, the plate boundaries were interesting, and the pressure was significant.

The book picks up with the Hulk being tracked to South America by Emil Blonsky, on loan to Ross from the British Royal Marines. After another encounter with lots of damage, Hulk got away. It was after this encounter that Blonsky was coaxed by Ross into volunteering to be given a small quantity of SuperSoldier serum, and after another encounter with the Hulk, even more serum. He started to experience psychosis, which he hid, and then agreed to treatement with a quantity of the Hulk's blood. This created his alter ego Abomination--bigger and stronger than the Hulk, uglier, and orange. He broke out of the lab and ultimately engaged Hulk in a battle royal in Harlem, during which Ross was almost killed by his protege, but Hulk managed to defeat him despite Abomination's superior strength, nearly strangling him with a massive chain before leaving the battlefield. Abomination was taken to a cryocell in Alaska, under the supervision of General Ross. After that, sightings of the Hulk ended and his existence faded away for most people.

Colin picked up the tempo, providing an entertaining description of Nick's attempt to bring Tony into the SHIELD fold, sending Coulson in to make contact. Coulson's assistance to Pepper during the Stane's Iron Monger power trip was described in harrowing detail, as was Tony's follow-up press conference. I shook my head at that, then frowned, considering. Tony had no humility at that point, just a massive chip on his shoulder. Now, though, his ego had been bitch-slapped a few times and the chip whittled down quite a lot. Is is possible that Tony was evolving from his natural state as an overly entitled genius manchild? The book details Coulson's offer of SHIELD training for Tony--"You fight like an inventor. You're supposed to cheat." "Yeah, I've watched professional wrestling." Then an account of the rocky process of bringing him into the fold, the palladium poisoning from his arc reactor that nearly killed him. I shook my head. I could think of a couple of ways around that just off the top of my head, and obviously, somebody else had too. The Senate hearings, where the right of a civilian to privately own technology like the Iron Man suits was hotly contested. Seizure of one of his suits by Jim, who had taken it to the military, against Stark's determination that the government wasn't fit to have the technology. Interestingly, it seemed that Natalia had infiltrated Stark Tech as Pepper's assistant at the time. She'd have done whatever she needed to do to achieve her objectives, which were not revealed in the book. I wondered if she'd tried to seduce Tony, but dismissed that; he'd still been with Pepper at that point and she'd never worried about other women. Then an encounter at a doughnut shop, where Nick talked him down out of a giant doughnut sign, told him that his dad had helped found SHIELD, and gave him some of his dad's old things to research a cure for his poisoning, which he found. There's an amusing bit about how he supposedly Macgyvered some sort of, I dunno, laser/ particle collider in his basement to synthesize a new element, to the dismay of Coulson, who'd been stuck babysitting him and had to leave for New Mexico.

Tony Stark: There was an old prototype of the shield my dad had made for Captain America. It was just right to use as a shim to keep the laser level. I thought he was going to cry. (pause) You know, I haven't seen that prototype since then.

We cut to a small town in New Mexico, where a mysterious object crashed to Earth, followed shortly by a big man bouncing off the scrub, who had the delusion that he was the son of Odin. He was captured when he tried to claim the mysterious object, failing to lift it.

Clint Barton: A few years ago, after a party, we were all sitting around and Tony started needling Thor about who could lift the hammer, so Thor gave everybody permission to try. Only Cap made it even wiggle, and I'm not entirely sure he didn't back off actually lifting it. Thor was just being smug about how only the worthy can lift the hammer, and I wanted to tell him, 'look, buddy, the first time I ever saw you, you couldn't lift it either, and you bawled like a manbaby who couldn't get any beer to drink at the big game.'"

This is where Thor met Jane Foster, whose work in astronomy was probably going to win her a Nobel Prize once the science was more thoroughly explored. There's a fun story about how Eric Selvig, himself no scientific slouch, tried to get Thor drunk and out of town. Then, the arrival of the Destroyer, who pretty much leveled the town, and the first appearance on Earth of Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. There had been some cell phone video of the encounter on the internet, and so it was common knowledge that Thor had been taken down by the Destroyer in the battle; it was his determination to yield so that no one else was harmed that made him worth to wield Mjolnir again, and his transformation to his god form had been, frankly, both impressive as hell and and kind of scary. Then he and his companions had poofed back to Asgard, leaving behind the knowledge that A) no, we are not alone in the universe, and B) we might be behind the eight ball when it came to the aliens. Human nature being what it is, over time, aliens faded from the public discourse.

While aliens were throwing down in New Mexico, that little pissant Justin Hammer revealed his drones for the US military that were ripped off from the Iron Man suit that Jim had 'appropriated' from his friend. Hijacked by Ivan Vanko who was driven by dreams of revenge on Stark (there's a theme, I'm finding), the drones caused a lot of damage and injuries, helping Stark's case with the public that the government just wasn't capable of using the technology capably or fairly.

After that, Fury met with Tony again. This time, the offer of a job with SHIELD was withdrawn, due to Tony's personal character.... irregularities. He did, however, offer him a consultantcy... with the Avengers Initiative. Tony took it on the condition that the Senator who'd tried to humiliate him during hearings over whether he should be forced to turn over the Iron Man suits to the government gave him a medal for his heroism. I shook my head. That's so Tony, pissing on things to show his dominance.

Around this time, the World Security Council, working on staffing the Avengers Initiative, wanted Abomination to be part of it. Yikes. Unlike Hulk, Abomination never returned to Blonsky. He was all Abomination, all the time. They saw him as a war hero, not the power-mad creature he became, and ordered SHIELD to ask Ross to release him to SHIELD for the project. Crafty Agent Sitwell talked Coulson into drafting Tony for the job. Tony met Ross at a bar and ending up irritating Ross so much that he refused. I'd never heard this side of the story before and found it amusing that Tony's power for pissing people off had finally been used for good. The Abomination remains, safe and frozen.

Then we jump to Captain America, recently recovered from arctic ice and thawed, trying to find his place in modern society. Then a fast-paced narrative of Loki's attack on the SHIELD base with the Tesseract, his suborning Clint and Dr Selvig. Tony was contacted when Nick decided to jumpstart the Avengers Initiative. Nick talked to Steve personally and sent Agent Romanoff to recruit the Hulk as a consultant for the project. Then they found Loki in Stuttgart, Cap keeping him engaged until Iron Man showed up to help, then taking Loki into custody. On the way back to the helicarrier, they were intercepted by Thor, who removed his brother for a stern talking-to, and followed down by Tony and Steve, who put an end to the fighting and rounded everybody up to dump on Nick.

Loki's genius for plotting becomes clear; once the Tesseract is brought on board, it begins to warp the people around it, sowing discord in the key minds. Steve and Tony squabble, Stark tests the Hulk--although this whole interaction is not really divulged; it's just stated that the human form of the Hulk is prodded by Stark--then Natasha and Fury and Thor join in what sounds like a massive verbal slap fight. The attack on the helicarrier and Loki's getaway is balanced by the recovery of Clint and the discovery that a hard-enough blow to the head would disrupt the artificial stricture of the Tesseract. During the attack, Hulk escaped the helicarrier and Thor ejected by his brother. Coulson was killed by Loki, and the incident used as the lynchpin of the formation of the Avengers.

"It is interesting," Colin wrote, "to examine the times that try our souls. Demoralized by the death of the universally regarded Coulson, Fury threw Coulson's treasured Captain America trading cards onto the table, which brought Steve and Tony out of their grief enough to talk about the situation, and Tony realized that Loki was planning to use Stark Tower for his plan. The two suit up. Iron Man can fly himself down, but Steve needs assistance, so he hunts up the only other person he knows--Agent Romanoff, who he found talking to the recently recovered and recalibrated Agent Barton. He asks for help, and they both volunteer. It's interesting to realized that at this moment, the Avengers tea, crystallized in the chaos, formed by people who saw the need for action and were willing to risk all they had to meet it. Iron Man and Captain America were the only two specifically recruited to join the team. Hulk had been brought in with the understanding that as soon as his part was done, he would be allowed to disappear again. Barton and Romanoff were just agents of SHIELD, Thor a wildcard (how unusual to append this descriptor to anyone other than Stark) whose goal was to stop his brother. All of them are gifted, obviously, but only three of them are altered humans. One is god-class, but the other two are just regular-grade humans, who found their own niches. Stark with his Iron Man suit and Hawkeye, with his unrelenting practice, day after day through the years, to become the world's premier marksman. Not everybody can Be Steve Rogers, selected to undergo an experimental treatment, or even Tony Stark, whose ferocious intelligence is pretty much unmatched, but everybody can aspire to be like Barton, who achieved his abilities with only hard, unrelenting dedication and practice."

Yay. It's time Clint got his due.

Colin describes the Chitauri invasion like a baseball announcer, discussing the aftermath, how quickly the politicians turned on their saviors and conveniently overlooking the fact that Stark had saved the city from being nuked by the World Security Counsel as well as from the marauding Chitauri. Acknowledging that valid questions about supers have been raised, Colin nevertheless takes the hypocrites and self-servers to task, naming names along the way. A few of the politicians are still in office. I wonder if this will be brought up in the next election cycle. Probably nobody will care by then. Tony rebuilds the tower, rebranding it as Avengers Tower, and the rest of the Avengers fade away after Thor takes Loki home.

Colin describes Tony's mental issues following the invasion sympathetically. The barely reined-in paranoia that led him to create the Iron Legion, the PTSD that scared the crap out of Pepper. It's a rare moment of humility that has Tony confessing that he felt inadequate against the challenges he'd seen; gods, aliens, portals to other worlds. And another blast from the past bites him on the butt: another scientist whom Tony had treated poorly came up with Extremis, a compound that used nanotechnology for genetic manipulations that bestowed accelerated healing factors, including regrowth of severed appendages, enhanced physical abilities, and the ability to create a great deal of heat biologically that could be used a weapon. It was created from SuperSoldier serum, gamma radiation, and Chitauri nanotech. It also tended to make the test subjects batshit crazy and usually they ended up exploding, a victim of the exothermic ability. It's with Pepper's kidnapping and forced exposure to the Extremis, which also somehow included the rescue of the US president in a rather byzantine sub-plot, that led Tony to try to give up Iron Man, initiating a protocol that destroyed the Iron Legion in explosions not unlike a fireworks display. Typical Tony, always the grand gesture, now with added gunpowder.

Oh, lord, Pepper was going to be pissed about her inclusion in the book and the public disclosure of all she'd been through. I couldn't blame her. I'd have to give her a head's up. I started to mark pages for her.

Here the narrative breaks away from Tony, and the twins and I are introduced. We catch up with Thor, chasing a group known as the Marauders as they rampage across the Nine Realms in a two year war, the sentencing of Loki to life imprisonment. The conditions are described; Frigga his mother furnished his cell nicely and got him books to read, he could see outside his cell, and his mother occasionally visited--through a projection of herself, not in person. Aside from these visits, no one came, no one talked to him. Colin provides a psychological description of the effects of solitary confinement and posits his personal theory that the Tesseract used his jealousy of Thor, his lack of purpose and position, and his considerable intelligence to serve its own ends. Here is a description of the Infinity Stones as six singularities that existed before the universe, formed by the big bang into six crystalline ingots representing different powers. Loki's scepter contained the yellow Mind stone, which was used to give the Maximoff twins their powers, and Vision his control. The blue Tesseract, once used by HYDRA and Red Skull, contained the Space stone. The other stones were the Reality stone, a red color, the purple Power stone, the green Mind stone, and orange Soul stone. Their current whereabouts were not disclosed, although remembering the green light that came from Dr Strange, the apparent Sorcerer Supreme, it wouldn't surprise me at all if somehow he'd gotten his hands on the Mind stone.

There's an explanation of Thor's exciting encounter with Malekith, the possession of Dr Jane Foster by the Reality stone, Thor breaking out Loki from prison to help free Jane, and the ultimate confrontation at Greenwich Observatory during the Convergence. During this time Tony was redesigning the helicarriers for Project Insight.

Then the narrative shifts to Steve, working in DC, meeting Sam, becoming disillusioned by SHIELD's less than pure activities and motives, the seeming death of Director Fury (although this is an outlier since Fury is the one who didn't actually die) and a detailed description of the Winter Soldier and the shock of discovering his real identity. How and why Steve and Natasha became fugitives, the revelation that Zola had been been brought to the US in Operation Paperclip, all the depth and breadth and influence HYDRA had attained since the war, and the realization of what was coming, that SHIELD had to be brought down, how Sitwell had been captured and the plan created. The intervention of the Winter Soldier, the capture of Sam, Steve, and a wounded Natasha by HYDRA, rescue by Maria Hill, discovery that Nick was still alive, and the attack on the Triskellion. Pierce's treachery was laid bare, the meeting of the World Security Council described, and Natasha's dumping of all SHIELD files onto the internet was a riveting read. Steve and Sam's efforts to replace the guidance modules of the helicarriers, and Steve and the Winter Soldier's showdown on the third helicarrier. Waking up with the battered Captain in the hospital.

Hearing Natasha's saucy testimony to the posturing Senators investigating the event was a real treat. With the dissolution of SHIELD, Natasha and Nick fade away, Cap pursues leads on Bucky, and Maria went to work for Tony. Then the band got back together; they had to locate and recover Loki's scepter from HYDRA, which was supposed to end Thor's involvement. After a typical Avenger's battle--lots of action and quipping, including Cap's admonishment against "language," the twins are encountered, but the scepter is recovered. Wanda messed with Tony's mind with a vision of the Avengers all dead, only him left, which seemed to unleash his paranoia again. Returning to New York, he prods the Hulk's human side into helping him create what became Ultron to enable the ultimate goal, peace in our time. The party and the competition to lift Mjolnir is played for laughs and this makes Ultron's violent birth even more shocking. The events that led up to Sokovia are traced quickly but thoroughly, including the creation of Vision, the death of Pietro, and the costs and ramifications of that battle are parsed effectively. The retirement of Thor, Tony, and Hulk is described, as is the recruitment of the new Avengers Wanda, Jim, and Sam. There's a summary of how Scott got the Ant Man suit and a truly funny account of how he used it to retrieve some of Hank Pym's technology from the upstate location, encountering Sam. I knew exactly when Bucky hit that part because he actually guffawed.

Then the story starts to get dark. Pepper left Tony because he wouldn't stop with his suits. The account of how Tony was confronted by a woman who'd lost her son in Sokovia. The presentation of the Sokovia Accords to the Avengers by Secretary of State Ross. (And how had that buffoon ever gotten out of disgrace, let alone into such a powerful position? I mistrusted military brass who were put in charge of our entire diplomatic array.) The recounting of the speech he gave them--we're grateful...we owe you an unpayable debt....but you freak people out, they're scared, you guys cost too much with the damage you do, we hate having power outside our control, sign or die (okay, not die) sign or retire.

And Colin takes a moment to reflect on the change in Tony Stark; impulsive Tony Stark, he who famously told the US government and military that they weren't trustworthy enough to have his Iron Man tech was unquestioningly prepared to submit to oversight not just by the US, but the whole of the UN. And Steve, whose patriotism would initially lead one to expect that he'd be the flagwaver in support, unexpectedly set against the Accords. It's unexpected until you remember his hatred of bullies, of tyranny, and that the Accords is essentially a big boot on their necks. One hundred seventeen countries signed the Accords, a significant number, but there are 196 countries in the world (195 if you don't count Taiwan) and this should have left some wiggle room. But Tony, wracked with guilt and insisting that they needed oversight, and Steve, adamant against allowing governments with their own agendas to direct their movements, create a chasm in the Avengers. Clint quits. Sides are chosen. Jim champions the UN, Natasha sides with Stark along with Vision. Sam supports Steve, and Wanda is unsure. Vision manipulates her by saying that the Accords will enable everyone to see her as he does, lessening their fear of her.

Peggy Carter dies, and Steve was a pallbearer at her funeral. The blonde CIA agent turned out to be Peggy's niece, who reconnects with Steve. At the signing of the Accords, there's a bomber, identified as Bucky, who kills several--including the King of Wakanda. His son T'Challa swears vengeance. Steve, Sam, and T'Challa both go after Bucky. T'Challa, Steve, Sam, and Bucky are arrested. Tony attempts to reason with Steve, but his arguments break down. Bucky is triggered by the fake psychologist and escapes. Sam and Steve also escape to recapture Bucky, Steve pulling down a helicopter to keep him from leaving. How Bucky gives them information about the Winter Guard, and the plans that are made to keep Zemo from activating them. Clint collecting Wanda, who had decided that she was done hiding, and if other people wanted to be afraid of her, that was on them, as well as Scott, who was overwhelmed to be recruited by Captain America. They showed up at Leipzig airport to leave for Siberia, only to be countered by Stark and his team, augmented by Spiderman and T'Challa. I was still mad that Tony had recruited a kid and manipulated him by not telling him the full story. The battle that broke the airport was compelling and nailbiting, ending in Natasha's defection, Jim's injury, the incarceration of Steve's team, and Bucky and Steve's escape.

Tony's visit to the Raft was new to me; Tony facing the contempt of his former Avengers to find information about where Steve went. Sam, lulled by Tony's promise to go as a friend, told him, and Tony caught up with Steve and Bucky at the Siberian facility. So did T'Challa, although this was unknown until afterward. Tony, Steve, and Bucky, puzzled at finding the Winter Guard dead, enlightened by Zemo, who gloatingly tells them of his plan to have the Avengers destroy themselves. Then he told Tony who killed his parents. Tony is no longer there as a friend to Steve and won't listen to reason. He goes after Bucky to kill him. It culminates in a brutal battle, Bucky and Steve against Tony in his Iron Man suit. Steve pleads with Tony, reminding him that Bucky's his friend. "So was I," Tony said without mercy. He tried to kill Steve with his repulsors. He sheared off Bucky's metal arm when he tried to incapacitate Tony by removing his suit's arc reactor to protect Steve, and kicked his face when he was down, breaking his nose.

"I told Rogers once that I didn't trust anybody without a dark side," Stark said softly. "I saw it then. It was a culmination of everything, I think. It wasn't just that I was trying to kill Bucky. It was trauma left over from the war, his disillusionment with the government, with me. Dealing with modern society. Being an upright, just man in a world where none of that is really rewarded. It had to be breaking him down."

"I think it was just that, for the first time in his life, maybe, that Steve gave in and finally put himself first," Emma Harrington-Rogers said simply. "He's always been a defender of the innocent, the fallen. Never willing to concede defeat or give in to intolerance or bullying. But here's his comrade in arms--and they've been through wars together too--who won't see reason, the other side. That Bucky had no choice. You think he wanted to kill his old friend, let alone a woman he'd never even met? Bucky went full-tilt on Tony--to protect Steve. Tony retaliated by severing his arm and kicking his nose. I'm surprised he has a face still, actually. Steve didn't go nuclear until then. He felt that there was no turning back. Stark wasn't listening, he'd given into his rage. Steve was out of options. And allowing Bucky to be killed was no option. What he'd wanted was for Bucky to be treated fairly, and that obviously wasn't going to happen. Tony backed Steve into a corner. I bet he didn't expect what came next."

What he got was Steve in a rage, pulling back just before a killing blow, settling for crushing the suit's arc reactor. And Tony, the resistor in his hand still operational, didn't use it. Steve got up and helped Bucky to his feet. Tony made a last-ditch effort to stop him, picking a fight about the shield. That it wasn't his. His father had made it. It didn't have the effect Tony had hoped for, Steve stopping, agreeing to turn Bucky over to the authorities, going back to the Avengers. Steve stopped. And dropped his identifying symbol. Tony could have it. Steve didn't want it anymore, or the responsibility that came with it to a world that didn't value what he felt it stood for.

Tony lost big.

Steve and Bucky were found by T'Challa, who brought them to Wakanda. Bucky went into cryo until he could be fixed--mentally more than physically. Steve set off to break his friends out of the Raft. Stark found Zemo, turned him over to the authorities, and went back to the Avenger complex to help Jim with his rehab and brood.

Steve sent him a note apologizing for not telling him about his parents, admitting to weakness. He did not apologize for his choices, but he did extend an olive branch in the form of a cell phone and a promise to come help if called.

Then the narrative abandons Tony for awhile and picks up Steve on the run, our meeting, Thor's rescue, the summit at my house in Austria. How Nick tracked me in Seattle, the establishment of the West coast complex, my joining the Avengers. Building the cell for Loki (and wasn't that going to ruffle some big feathers once it got out to the public) more fighting with Tony, Thor's wedding, Bucky joining us, and all the fighting that included. I shook my head. The solution that was reached by Bucky staying in New York for his continuing treatment. Finding out about Night Terror. And throughout this, little tidbits about all of us, including Tony's account of me having to start running the obstacle course. Bastard. I'd get him for that. My quitting in the aftermath of the Yucatan op and rejoining as a metallurgist, then the attack at the visitors center that had me back in a new persona. Comic con and the aftermath of that, with all the PR we did. The Hulk disappearing. My separation from Steve, the DC mission to bust Madam Hydra and her crew. Thor and Sif's disappearance, finding Odin, the arrival of Volstagg and Fandrel, the journey to Asgard, the loss of Vision.

And the Arena. every nasty, brutish moment was relayed, every injury. I felt sticky from the blood and sweat just reading about it, and a little ill revisiting it. Regaining Pietro. Finding Thor and Hulk again, and the separation from Hulk, finally, for what looks like good. Then the events on Asgard, including Sif's miscarriage and Odin's triumphant return to the throne. Whatever. The upset over the threats he'd made to Hela, and how that ultimately resolved. Our operation to combat Silvermane, and the wedding. Followed shortly by Steve's death, a few ops I didn't know about because I wasn't in on them, and his revivification. My departure, a little bit about my travels, and the squabbling that became the norm at the complex between missions. Natasha and Bucky's breakup. Tony, Bucky, and Steve's visit to me in Colorado and my agreement to help with his arm. My move to New York and assumption of my identity as Poppy--and here there was a little comparison of my uniform for all three of my hero names (a little embarrassing)--and my illness from the subway sickness and how that started to draw the team back together. The Seattle earthquake and the devastation that caused Clint. Then the aliens, how I'd found out about them, then Tony and Natasha blowing my cover, my triggering Natalia's memories in retribution. The gathering of the superheroes, the threats the military had made to me, Congress getting blown up, the battle for the city. The desperate fight at the tower, and a roll call of who'd been injured and how. I didn't know a single hero who didn't suffer some hurt. The lawsuits I'd filed against the government and military, and the cleanup and rescue work. Colin was very detailed in describing who did what to help.

There was a bit about Steve and me getting married again, then the girls' night out that resulted in finding the kids, updates on their general progress, and that, finally, brought us pretty much up to date. I rubbed my eyes and checked the clock it was five in the morning. I skipped the appendices; there were more photographs and an academic discussion of the mess that was the Sokovia Accords. A big chunk of footnotes, and an index. Bucky finished slightly before I did, and Steve gave up after the pictures. We looked at each other.

"Well, I didn't hate it," I said finally. Bucky nodded.

"He was pretty fair. It's one thing to be telling somebody about what happened, and another to see it in print, though." He frowned.

"Yeah," Steve agreed. "It was just..weird to see it all written down. It's like a story line from a comic book that got out of control." He yawned too.

Bucky got up. "I'm going home."

"You can stay if you want," I immediately offered, and he grinned.

"Naw, I miss my comforter." Steve chuckled and he and the little dogs left. Steve and I went upstairs. There'd probably be a discussion later in the day and a plan for the media attention this biography would bring would be needed.

That could wait.


	63. Returns

When the book came out, it was a sensation. Pepper was so pissed she nearly quit. We were swamped with media requests from all over the world. The government apologized publicly and paid the heroes for their conscription; it worked out to about what a private in the Army gets paid, but the gesture was important. The lawsuit settled. The military had to settle too, I got them to agree to a public statement that it was a mistake to try to coerce me and that they would not be pursuing me further in any capacity. A sympathetic Senator used the wave of pro-Avenger sentiment to pass a law that organized heroes into something similar to a reserve unit that could be used in times of natural disaster or invasion, but the heroes had to opt in, they were paid if they were activated, and they were assigned a military liaison so that their autonomy could be preserved as there was concern that the military could not deploy them effectively. Steve and my marriage was cooed over, overly romanticized, and was the big couples costume for Halloween that year. Based on comments in the book, there was a special exhibit at the Costume Institute that featured Steve's superhero designs, the centerpiece of which was the Comic Con costumes. My costumes got their own special display. I teased him, pointing out that I'd predicted this. He was pleased and humble. It was a big success.

After awhile, the attention eased off and life went back to normal. Peter graduated from high school. I gave him a trip to Europe, which he took with a couple of his friends before starting in the fall at Columbia. I was so proud of him. For Steve's birthday, we hosted a party in the backyard before going out to watch the city fireworks display. A couple months later, we had a barbeque for mine over Labor Day. I hired more help at the store so that Pietro and Wanda had more time for their interests, and I helped Loki enroll in college. He was interested in finance.

Four days before Thanksgiving, the Watchtower let us know the aliens were back.

This time, though, we had a plan. The major cities were evacuated and defensive units like the ones that had been successful in the first battle were set up. These had improved weapons and ammunition. We had a small wing of experimental aircraft with new weapons, as well. We felt more prepared.

The battle came on Thanksgiving. They hit harder, which was expected, but we were holding our own. Steve and I were positioned outside New York-Presbyterian Hospital for defense and to help the ambulance crews. The Kree hit first, and soon their aircraft were in dogfights with the Skrulls, with the human planes watching and picking off the winners. Troop carriers began getting through, however, and we had our hands full. We were holding our own, though, and in a lot of key places, we were pushing them back. Our time since the first invasion had not been wasted.

A Kree fighter broke away from the aerial war and strafed the street by our position. On the second run, a human fighter hot on its tail, I saw it stitch the pavement behind me with its rounds. I turned, just in time to see its projectiles hit Steve. The world froze as his chest exploded. It didn't take the five steps I needed to cross to him to know that he was gone. I wiped the fine mist of his blood from my face, picked up his shield, and used it to cover the worst of what used to be his face and chest. I picked up his rifle and checked the magazine.

"Cap is down," I said levelly. "I need more rounds for the M4." I stood over him and began firing at the invaders. There was a stunned silence over coms, then it exploded with questions. "There's no rush on the evac," I made myself say. I tuned it out and sighted my next target. The other defenders at our position were starting to look my way. The next thing I knew, Bucky was there, falling to his knees. He didn't move. Tony, Sam, and Jim arrived simultaneously, not ten seconds later. Tony ripped his mask off and looked down. He didn't notice the tears raining down on his cheeks. It started to snow. Pete showed up with the magazines I'd requested. I snapped a new one in and nailed the Kree fucker who had him in his sights.

"Mom--" Pete whispered.

"You need to put it aside for now, honey," I said quietly. "We need to get back to work." I picked up another magazine. "That goes for all of you," I told the fliers. "Back to work. There's no magic Tony can work that will fix this now." Nobody was listening. I shoved the butt of the rifle into Stark's suit, staggering him. They finally looked at me. "Get back to work," I snapped, then stepped back for the stretcher bearers. They managed to get what was left of my husband on the canvas stretcher they were using. Blood quickly soaked through and a trail marked their path. Nobody else moved. "Get back to work." I screamed, and that woke them up. They left. I stood over Bucky and defended our position.

We ended up winning, overall.

Because the damage was so severe, there wasn't much that the scientists could study; they took samples and released his body for burial. The next thing I knew, I was being informed that his body would lie in repose, not in the Rotunda of the Capitol, because that had been destroyed in the first invasion. Instead, they were using the Lincoln Memorial; it was one of the few monuments to make it through both invasions with minimal damage, and Steve had admired Lincoln so. People waved plans in front of my face, a plain, black draped catafalque, a sober walnut casket. It had to be closed casket, of course. I was asked to approve flowers.

I went down to DC the day before, showed up to the memorial on time, and followed Steve's casket down the stairs. Enormous crowds had flocked to pay their respects. They directed the mourners on both sides of the casket, twenty-four hours a day, but there were lines right up until the funeral. I decided to take a leaf from Mrs Kennedy's book and wore a hat with a heavy black veil with my black suit. Steve was buried in his hard-won Army uniform. I polished the brass myself. He wore his wedding ring, and I placed his first one, the one with the bit of Mjolnir, on his hand as well. His casket was taken down the stairs by pallbearers from the Navy and Marines and loaded onto a caisson pulled by four horses. Somebody told me it was the same one used for Presidents Roosevelt and Kennedy. It was followed by a riderless horse, off to the side so that nobody had to worry about walking in horse poop on the way. I walked behind the casket, accompanied by Bucky; muffled drums were the only sounds beyond the clop of horses. The onlookers were still. Behind us walked the rest of the Avengers, followed by the other heroes who wanted to pay their respects. Political dignitaries who wanted to walk came after. We walked to St. Matthews Cathedral, where the casket was brought in by members of the Air Force. Bucky and I went in, but everybody else was temporarily barred. I hustled up as soon as the casket was positioned for the mass and made them open it for me. I wanted to be certain that we were actually burying my husband and not an empty casket. He was there, though, and the casket was closed, I was shown to a pew beside Bucky, and everybody else came in. Tony spoke, and the President gave a eulogy. They told me it was all very moving. It certainly looked nice. The flowers were lovely, there was a portrait of him from World War Two, and his shield was on display below his casket. Then Army members, all brass, nothing less than generals, including the Chief of Staff of the Army, took his casket down the stairs to a hearse. We got into limousines and were driven to Arlington.

This time the Avenger bore his casket: Bucky, Tony, Sam, Jim, Pete, Clint, Natalia, and Wanda carried it to the grave and positioned the casket before taking their seats. The shield was brought out again, this time positioned in front of the flowers. The burial service was conducted, and the Chief of Staff of the Army presented me with the flag that had draped the casket. I sighed as his remains were lowered into the ground at last, and took one more look around. It was a nice place in the cemetery. I think he'd have liked it.

Back in the limousine, I gave Bucky the flag, and then I went home. I don't know where Bucky went afterward. I think the Avengers had a private wake. I learned later that the President, all the former Presidents who could still walk, the Secretaries of Defense and State, the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, the Speaker of the House, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Governor and Congressional delegation from New York, and representatives from countries all around the world showed up. T'Challa, Thor, Odin, Loki, and Sif were chief among these, but the Prime Ministers from Canada and the UK were there, a member of Britain's royal family, as well as representatives from every country in Europe, most of South and Central America, Russia, Australia, New Zealand, Japan, and several countries in Africa.

It was hard for Bucky and me to be around each other for awhile. The loss of Steve, our third, left an enormous hole, too big to be easily bridged. It wasn't like we were estranged, it's just that we needed some time for natural processes to gentle out that hole. Erosion of the pit, if you like. A couple of weeks after the funeral, people showed up for his uniforms and other equipment. I didn't fight that, they were part of the "Captain America" persona that the government still owned. It had been made quite clear to Steve some time ago that his equipment, even his precious shield, were not his. I did kick up a fuss when they wanted to possess the two shields I'd made for him, and a quick call to Foggy won me a temporary restraining order. We headed to court, where a judge ruled that those two shields had been a personal commission by Steve and were therefore private property. They had to be happy with just the vibranium shield. I tried to stay put where Steve and I had been happy, but his ghost was everywhere. Actually, it wasn't his ghost; I'd have welcomed that. It was the faint and tragic hope that his footstep would fall again, that his arms would close around me, that I'd hear his magnificent heartbeat just once more, that did me in. 

I didn't leave New York, though, I stayed in Brooklyn, just a different neighborhood. I quit the Avengers and closed the store as there were days where I couldn't get up, much less create something beautiful. About six months after the funeral, Tony visited me. They were recasting Captain America. I wasn't surprised; Cap was too powerful a symbol not to be used. Bucky had accepted the mantle, and the next time I was up to leaving the house, I visited him and gave him the shield I'd made for Steve in Seattle, since that was the one he'd used the most, and gave him a sketch I'd taken from one of Steve's sketchbooks for a new costume idea. I also made sure to tell Colin that Bucky had my blessing, just to spare him any grief.

Bucky stayed in the role long enough for people to get used to the idea of somebody else as Captain America. It was necessary for people to understand that Cap was an idea, an ideal, more than a single individual. After about a year, he too retired, passing the role on to Sam, who upheld the tradition proudly. Bucky bought the house next to mine, and we resumed our friendship, figuring how to make it work with two instead of three. And that smoothly and gently grew into love. We married one morning at City Hall. It was a brutally hot summer, and we wanted to avoid the worst of it. I had Pete skip a day of class and meet us there. He took us to brunch after to celebrate.

Life does go on, even after the darkest days. It helps to have friends who can help you find the light once again, but you have to do the heavy lifting by yourself. You just have to be willing to take the hands that are offered to find your way forward. What I had with Bucky was unique to us and as precious to me as what I'd had with Steve. I never doubted that Steve would have approved. He'd have wanted us to be happy. I found a drawing he'd done of the two of us, me talking to Bucky, checking on the arm, Bucky smiling, and had it framed. It felt like a benediction.

*************

Emma isn't quite done yet... there are some one shot stories in Poppies.


End file.
